Song of Mine
by giraffeseattrees
Summary: Santana Lopez, the new Music teacher at a religious private school in Indianapolis, meets Brittany Pierce, the resident Math teacher. A love story with a happy ending. Promise.
1. Chapel

**SONG OF MINE**

AN: This is very close to my heart. Please be kind.

* * *

 _ **Prologue**_

 _You never thought you'd be here again. Not 'here' here, but in this same situation. The room fills with the sounds of a pencil scratching a pad. Or is it a pen? You don't even dare glance up to check for yourself. You feel awkward. Like you don't belong here. You did nothing wrong, you think to yourself. If only that were true._

" _Are you ready to start?" He asks softly from his seat in front of you. You don't move. Instead, your eyes continue to stare at your hands fidgeting in your lap. "Santana," He calls out again and this time you hesitantly look up. He smiles and nods, "You don't need to be afraid. This is a safe place."_

 _You quietly scoff at that. Safe place?_

" _I know this must be hard for you," He continues, and you look back down at your hands, "But I'm not like those other therapists. I don't believe in what they believe in. I just want to 'help' you. Not 'heal' you."_

" _I don't need to be healed."_

" _I know that. And I'm glad that you know that." He nods, and you look back up at him. "There's a reason you came here, Santana. Help me understand why."_

 _You think about it for a few seconds before shaking your head. He's right but you're just being stubborn. "I'm scared." You tell him softly, looking away again. You try to focus your attention on something, anything but the person sitting in front of you._

" _Scared of what?" He questions as he scribbles down a note._

" _So much." You sigh. "But mostly, I'm scared of how self-destructive I am."_

 _He stares at you for a second before he hums, nodding in acceptance of your candidness._

" _Why don't we start from the beginning." He offers and you breathe out a steadying breath. The beginning. You close your eyes and sink into the seat a little more comfortably. You need to be open to this. You need to heal._

" _I never thought I'd be teaching at a school like that." You laugh dryly, "Grace Christian Academy – Music teacher, Santana Lopez."_

" _Doesn't sound so bad," He shrugs, trying to lighten the mood a little, "Kinda has a ring to it."_

" _I thought so, too." You nod. "I thought it was a great opportunity, you know? Teaching at a well-known school, even if it was a religious one." You still can't believe you applied and accepted the position, knowing full well what their views were on your particular 'lifestyle'._

" _But now?"_

 _You take a deep breath, "Now, I think I wouldn't be sitting here if I hadn't met her." You duck your head in an attempt to hide the shakiness of your voice at the mention of a particular blonde._

 _He doesn't say anything. You can hear his pencil connect to paper again and you close your eyes. You can still remember every detail. The first time you ever saw her she was shuffling papers on her desk. The soft sounds of the room right now associate to the same ones you heard in her classroom that day and you can almost smell her perfume now._

 _You take in a breath, a desperate plea in hopes of smelling it, but come up empty. You open your eyes again, exhaling. "She was the math teacher."_

 _He watches you carefully, like he's waiting. He's waiting for you to say it. He's waiting for you to bring your story to life. To give it a name._

" _Brittany Pierce," You say softly. "Her name is Brittany Pierce."_

 _This is the beginning of your story._

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _ **Act I**_

 _ **Chapter 1: Chapel**_

The first time you see her she's not even looking at you. She was organizing her desk when you both walked in and now she's looking at the woman next to you. Granted, the woman next to you is the one in charge and you're just the new Music teacher. When Sue, the Principal, turns to you, so does she.

"This is Brittany Pierce, Mathematics – she'll be finishing up the tour for me." Sue motions towards the other blonde and you nod at Brittany, smiling politely. Sue continues, "Brittany here knows all there needs to know about this place, she's been here since the beginning. She was even in our first ever preschool graduating class."

"It's true," Brittany chuckles, smiling brightly at you. "They have the pictures to prove it. You must be?"

You clear your throat, realizing that you've still yet to be properly introduced, "Santana Lopez, Music." You offer your hand to her and she glides her hand into yours, squeezing it slightly.

Brittany nods, probably realizing that you're here for the job opening. Sue takes that as her cue to exit the classroom, leaving the two of you standing there alone. Brittany offers you a seat while she straightens out her papers for organizing later. You don't take the seat but instead decide to slowly walk alongside her classroom walls, taking in the sight of her teachings. She's definitely… _interesting_.

The rest of the tour goes smoothly and only takes about a half an hour. You tell Brittany that this is your first time on campus, but you've already gone through multiple phone/video interviews with Sue. She smiles at that, telling you that she doesn't want to jinx it but usually that means you got the job. She brings you to your future classroom so that you can see the space you'll eventually be spending a lot of your time.

You make a mental note that it's not that far from Brittany's classroom. It's a small school, nothing is far from anything.

You walk up to the desk in the front and run your fingers over the top. It's a moderately sized classroom and it looks more 'high-tech' in here than Brittany's. Since you'll be teaching music, there is keyboard pianos at every student's desk, each connected to what looks like relatively new computers.

"The private sector sure has its perks." You say mostly to yourself. Brittany hears you and chuckles at that, but she doesn't comment on the remark. Instead she switches on one of the keyboards and begins to softly play a simple piano riff. You smile when you recognize it as Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty.

"It definitely wasn't like this when I was growing up in this school." She states, looking around the room as she takes in all the cool electronics kids have access to nowadays. "But at least now the students have a place they can express themselves in this way."

You nod and continue to watch her. She walks towards you and mimics your earlier motions, tracing her fingers along the outline of your future desk. When she reaches the end, she smiles at you before turning her body and sitting on top of the edge of your desk. You follow suit and do the same.

You suppose the grand tour seems to be done since Brittany has made no other effort to move from this spot. You don't mind though because it's nice to be in here with just you and her. Your feet are slightly dangling and hers are comfortably planted on the floor.

"You know, my high school Math teacher almost killed me." You joke. She turns to look at you with a frown and you hold back your laugh, "She was always so dull. She almost killed me with boredom."

When she relaxes in relief you let yourself smile and she shakes her head at you, giggling. At least you made someone laugh today.

"I like you," She states matter-of-factly. You look at her and she nods her head once in affirmation to emphasize her statement.

You find yourself smiling fully at that, copying her head nod in similar fashion, "I like you, too." She giggles again and soon you both fall into a comfortable quiet as you take in your surroundings.

"Do you like what you see?" Brittany speaks first, and you think for a second before answering her.

"It's a smaller school than I thought." You tell her honestly. The school ranges from preschool all the way to high school and even then, it fits in one building. There's probably less than 500 students that attend. "It's cute though. At least I won't have to only deal with teenagers, tiny humans can be fun sometimes." She smiles at that. "I imagine everyone to be really close with each other."

She laughs, "Well, we look out for our own. The downside is that everyone knows your business. You can't survive here with your head down." Suddenly, she sits up like she just remembered something.

Just then Sue pokes her head into the room, "Don't forget-"

"I know, I know." Brittany interrupts her, and Sue smiles before disappearing once again.

"We missed something?" You're confused because you're pretty sure you walked through the entire school.

"Mhmm." She pats your leg before hopping off the desk, "Come on, I've got to show you one last thing."

You look at her quizzically but follow suit, "I could've sworn we walked through the whole building."

She smiles, "We did. But there's one more, very important part that you've yet to see. It's the other building next door." She explains as she opens the front doors of the school and walks out onto the street. You follow her silently as you walk into another lot with a much larger building than the school.

"Oh," you breathe out once you realize where you're heading.

"This is the church." She smiles down happily at you, but her face falls when she notices your expression. "What's wrong?"

"What?" You blink away your blank stare and turn to her. "Oh, it's nothing. I just didn't know - I mean - _I knew,_ but I just didn't-"

Her face scrunches up, "Is this going to be a problem for you? You do know this is a Christian school, right?" She asks. You almost roll your eyes at that. Of course you knew, it's literally in the school's name, _Grace Christian Academy_.

You attempt to recover from your blubbering. "No, of course. I mean, I was brought up as a Christian so it's not a problem. I just didn't think the church was integrated into the school so much." You explain yourself, and she nods slowly. She seems to think about your words a little but eventually she shrugs lightly.

"It's okay, you know. If you're not that into it." She reassures you. "Just don't let the others know that. Honestly, you don't have to worry too much about it. You won't be teaching any bible classes and we only ever come here for chapel every Thursday."

You nod along as you follow her into the building. "Um, at chapel would I have to…" you look at her and she already understands what you're trying to ask.

"You wouldn't really have to do anything." She laughs knowingly. "Just sway a little during worship and make sure the students stay awake during the message." She opens the auditorium doors and you both walk in, taking in the view of the large stage and the many seats set up for service. When you turn to her she's already looking at you with a smile. "Want to see the front? The view is even better from the stage."

You half shrug, "Yeah, I guess. Since I'll probably never be up there. Now's my only chance." She laughs and leads the way. You follow her to the front of the auditorium and when she moves to sit down in the front row, you continue on to the stage. Her eyes follow you from where she's seated and watches as you very ungracefully sit yourself on the edge of the stage with a little turn jump.

She was right, the view from the stage really is better. The lights in the audience is off and the stage is dimly light. Since Brittany is in the front row, you can still make out the features of her face. You instantly become hyper aware of the fact that it feels like you're on display for her and only her.

This makes you even more anxious and you begin to shift awkwardly under her gaze. You look away nervously when you see her slightly duck her head to look away first. You think it could be interpreted as bashful, but she's in the dark so you can't really say for certain.

She clears her throat, "The school puts together a play at the end of each school year. It's pretty great actually." Her attempt at small talk eases your nerves. "Plus, most of the time it's not a religious play. Even though it has to be approved by Sue, the students tend to pick plays that have nothing to do with religion."

That warrants a small chuckle from you, "Makes sense." You look at her again, wanting to know more about her in particular. "What about you?"

She pauses for a second. She's knows you're asking about her beliefs. You want to know where she stands on the matter. "I'm pretty into it." She answers, shrugging.

You nod your head slowly and hum in response. Not sure of what to do with that information. Not sure if that means you should keep your distance from her. You bite your bottom lip when she stands suddenly, moving closer to you as she studies your face. "I'm not ashamed of it." She looks slightly offended, "This place saved my life." The way she says it comes out slightly more aggressive than you were prepared for.

You're quick to reassure her. "Oh no, I didn't mean anything by it. And I'm not judging you. To each their own, you know?"

"So, you don't go to church?" She asks, jumping up to sit on the edge with you. Her jump obviously more graceful and smooth than yours. You shake your head in response to her question. You would hardly call yourself religious. Not anymore at least. Sure, you like to think of yourself as a Christian still, but you're not exactly always on your 'Sunday best' anymore. Honestly, you only applied for this position because you were curious about the idea of teaching kids.

"Church seems more like it's about showing face than actually helping people." You scrunch up your nose and hope that you haven't offended her, again. "I'm sorry. It's just, I figured I could get by with just being… _spiritual enough_. I've had a few bad experiences with church people." It's been more than ten years since then but you figure by now things could have changed. They must've. You can only hope.

She seems to accept your answer and you're grateful for that. "You might like it here, though. We're getting along fine, right?" You smile at her and she leans sideways to playfully nudge your shoulder with hers. "We're not going to force you to join the church, Santana. But you should totally come by this Thursday to observe chapel. You can stay in the back with me and you can see all the students. It'll give you a chance to see this place in action."

You chuckle at that and agree. You might as well check it out if you're going to have to come here every Thursday. Brittany is so understanding with you and you're happy to have at least made a new friend.

* * *

You accepted the job offer the same day as your tour with Brittany. By the following week, you were settled into your new classroom.

You had doubts about working in a religious environment, especially after what happened all those years ago as a teenager. But eventually you told yourself that you needed the money because you're new to town and out of all the other jobs you've interviewed for, this job pays the best.

You got lucky when the previous music teacher moved away last minute, and they needed a replacement as soon as possible. Sure, that means you would have to start a few weeks after the beginning of the school year, but at least you weren't too far behind.

On your first day of teaching, Brittany showed up to your classroom early in the morning to congratulate you. She was surprised to see you already setting up since it was still so early. She told you she was planning on just leaving a little note on your desk.

But when she walked in on you putting up some posters, she smiled brightly and gave you the note anyway. You did your best to hide the blush that found its way onto your cheeks. You took her handwritten note and pinned it to the board next to your computer.

 _You are exactly where you're meant to be. Congratulations on the new job. – Britt._

It's been a little over a month now since you've started working at the school. This morning's chapel started off as it usually does with you assisting Brittany in getting her class to stand in a straight line. Since chapel is first thing in the morning and every student starts Thursday in Bible class, you have no students of your own to wrangle.

Chapel, as it turns out, is your favorite part of Thursday. Originally, you thought chapel was going to be your favorite because you thought you would be able to sit in the back and discreetly nod off for an hour and a half. But once you found out that Brittany does the sound and lighting from the booth in the back, you offered your superior tech ability services to her. Even though you don't have any.

Brittany easily found that out for herself after the first chapel service though. You had no idea what you were doing, and this was not a ' _fake it till you make it'_ kind of situation. But she didn't mind that you wanted to help her instead being up in the front assisting with worship, since that would've made more sense with you being the music teacher and all. She even took it upon herself to teach you what every button did.

However, she didn't hold back even a little while she laughed at you for accidentally turning off the entire system in the middle of the message. You think you'll never live that down. You think she'll never let you.

Now that you've got the hang of it, you can confidently say that you are no longer afraid to push some buttons, flip some switches, and slide some sliders. Brittany really is a great teacher.

"Thanks for helping me with the kids." Brittany leans towards you as you walk side by side, following the line of students. "You know you don't have to do that every Thursday, right?"

"I know." You shrug. "But, I don't have anything better to do."

When you get into the auditorium, you part ways with Brittany, taking over for her as you make sure the students are sitting in their proper sections before walking back to the sound booth. It's a decent sized booth, boxed off and tucked away in the back corner of the auditorium so that no one pays it any attention, but still visible enough that you both can easily see the stage from over the controls. Brittany's already set up, with her little notepad as she holds the top of a pen between teeth. Her feet are propped up on the bench you both share and when she sees you approaching, she smiles mischievously.

"I think Rory likes you." Her eyes are looking past you and she juts her chin in the same direction.

When you turn around slightly, you see him looking. You're pretty sure he's actually looking at Brittany because you already know he has a crush, it's just not on you. You've seen the way he looks at your new friend when she isn't paying attention. Rolling your eyes, you turn and face his direction fully. You motion your hand towards him in a way that tells him to turn around to the front. He blushes before obeying your command.

"Shoes, Pierce." You hear Sue's voice just as she breezes past you and towards the front of the auditorium. Brittany quickly puts her feet down and sits up straighter.

You click your tongue in disappointment at your friend, "Miss Pierce, you should know better." You smirk, and she frowns.

"You be quiet." She points at you, "At least I don't have a teenage admirer." She laughs, and you knowingly grin back. When you tell her who the real subject of Rory's crush is, her frown is back and this time you're the one that's laughing.

xx

You look up from the computer to make sure the right mic is on when Will steps up on stage to begin his sermon. This is the best part of chapel because he'll be up there talking for a good hour or so, meaning you have the best chance to make conversation with Brittany with no interruptions.

You used to think that chatting with Brittany during the message might be impeding on her enjoyment of the sermon, but she quickly reassured you that the point of chapel is mostly for the students. She even admitted to falling asleep on more than one occasion. You don't blame her, Will can be a dull guy sometimes. Either way, you still do your best to not overly converse with her, mostly in fear that she'll eventually tire of you. Your sound booth conversations are generally kept short and you almost always wait for Brittany to initiate them.

Over the course of the last few services, you found out more about Brittany and her life. You've been going back and forth with her on a game of 21 questions, friendship version. You find out that she's way more integrated with GCA than you originally thought.

She's 27, a few years younger than you and has no siblings. Both of her parents are pastors at the church, leading you to believe it's how she ended up going to this school from preschool to graduation. Oh and her college of choice? An Indiana Christian college you've never heard of before. When she said she was ' _pretty into it_ ', that was truly the understatement of the century.

You also found out Brittany lives only a few blocks from campus and she basically spends most of her time at the school or at the church. You asked her once if she had any friends outside of the church and she just shook her head. She later explained that it had something to do with people not understanding why she would subject herself to spending time with a bunch of ' _bigots and hypocrites'_.

She did clarify though that she would never try push her beliefs on others. But after more than enough ' _heated discussions that ended in my so-called friends yelling profanities at me'_ she found it better to just stay away.

That made you sad because Brittany is so sweet and so easy to get along with. She hasn't tried to push you towards coming to church or talk about your own views on religion. She knows that everyone has to live their own lives.

"Alright, your turn." Brittany whispers beside you. You cock your head to the side and try to think of a good question.

"What's a good takeout restaurant near here?" you ask, and she scrunches her face in confusion.

"That's what you want to ask me for your question?"

"I forgot my lunch at home today," you explain, "So I have to go out and grab something." Brittany immediately shakes her head at you.

"Okay, no. Come to my classroom during lunch," she offers, "we can share mine."

This time it's your turn to shake your head, "Brittany, no. I can't take your food, you'll starve. I can just grab something."

"I won't take no for an answer, Santana." She tells you and doesn't let you fight her. Instead, when you try to speak up she hushes you and tells you to look forward. You laugh to yourself and turn to the front. You guess you have no choice. It's not like you're mad about it though.

"Fine."

xx

About 35 minutes into Will's sermon, you notice that Brittany is humming softly. It's the same tune that she played on the keyboard the day you met her. You smile at that and quietly hum along with her. She notices and gets you to look at her by bumping your shoulder with hers. She's smiling shyly at you and you can't help but swoon at the sight. You duck your head and continue to hum.


	2. Little Things

_**Chapter 2: Little Things**_

You're still getting used to the range of students that walk through your classroom doors. The scheduling is weird in a way that one hour you'd be working on a technique with an advance high school class, and then it's followed by a class of elementary students still learning the basics. You quickly come to realize though that this helps in keeping you from going insane.

For the most part, working with high school students and their moody attitudes leave you quite agitated, so when the smaller kids come along, it gives you a chance to interact with tiny little humans. Reminding yourself that innocence does exist and not every child makes you want to rip your face off.

You're currently walking around the class, helping some of the younger students with their hand placements when you see Brittany standing quietly in your doorway. She waves you over and just before you can move towards her, a small hand flies up into the air, asking for help.

You hold up your finger to Brittany, telling her to wait a minute and she smiles in understanding. You walk over to the young girl and she explains to you that she forgot where middle C was. You lower yourself to her level and smile as you show her, explaining to her how to easily find it if she ever forgets again.

When you're sure she understands, you stand and tell the class to practice their scales. You walk over to Brittany and she steps slightly out of your class allowing you take her spot in the threshold, leaning against the frame in a way that allows you to still keep an eye on your students.

"You're so good with them, San." She smiles at you and your heart soars at the introduction of a nickname, and in the same sentence with a compliment no less. You don't think anyone has ever told you you're good with kids. Back when you were still doing private piano lessons, your clientele was mostly made of adults. You've purposefully had very little interactions with children, probably because you're worried you might mess them up to turn out like you.

"You should've seen me a half hour ago with the older students." You roll your eyes in an attempt to brush off her comment but her eyes narrow at you.

"I don't know… Something tells me you're actually a fluffy marshmallow under this whole _tough-girl_ act you got going on."

That actually makes you laugh. You know you've definitely never heard that before. Brittany doesn't accept that though and takes a step forward, gently poking at your side.

"Just checking." She explains with a smile and you giggle at her before swatting her hand away.

"You better not tell me I feel like a marshmallow." You scold her with a frown, "I'll be deeply offended."

She laughs and tells you to get back to work. You watch as she walks away and disappears behind the corner. You wonder why she stopped by. You brush it off, thinking she must've just been checking on you.

"Um, Ms. Lopez?" Your student's voice catches your attention and you step back into your class with a small smile on your face.

* * *

You're late and you probably look like a hot mess. You spent the better part of your morning at the auto shop trying to figure out why your car won't start. After an hour and a half, and about $250, you're finally on your way to work.

By the time you're busting through the front doors of the school, you're irritated, slightly more broke, and most importantly, _coffeeless_.

You curse at the universe because not only did you miss one of your morning classes, you didn't have any time to stop somewhere to grab a decent cup of coffee. You think about maybe grabbing a cup in the teacher's lounge but quickly remember you hated it the last time you did that. You wonder how anyone can stand to drink that watered down garbage.

You plaster on the best surface smile you can muster, and make your way to your classroom. You have about 10 mins before the next class starts and you grateful for at least that.

Once you're inside your eyes land on your desk. Your fake smile quickly replaced with a genuine one when you see what's there waiting for you. You walk up, place your purse down, and grab the note that's lightly blanketing a large thermos.

 _Heard about your rough morning. Hope it's still hot by the time you get here. -Britt_

Your smile widens when you read the next line.

 _P.S. Don't worry, I brewed an extra strong batch just for you_

You sit in your chair and swivel to the board beside your computer. You pin Brittany's note next to the first one and smile. You briefly wonder if it's weird that you're keeping them, but really they only serve as a reminder that you have a friend. Someone that's looking out for you.

You turn back to the thermos and examine it. It's most definitely Brittany's personal thermos. It's bright yellow with stickers of rainbows and unicorns. You chuckle to yourself because everyone is going to see it on your desk and it in no way reflects you as a person. You don't really mind though, you'll proudly display Brittany's thoughtfulness to everyone.

You open the top and you're instantly met with the smell of strong coffee. You take a sip and hum softly to yourself. It's not really that hot anymore, but it's not exactly too warm either. It's exactly how you like it. You glance at the clock and note that you still have a few minutes before the students start switching classes.

Turning on your computer, you send a quick message to Brittany.

 _Lopez, S: You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Britt._

Almost immediately, Brittany responds.

 _Pierce, B: Is it still okay?_

 _Lopez, S: It's perfect. Exactly what I needed._

 _Pierce, B: I'm glad :)_

You smile and sit back in your chair until the first student walks into your classroom. You spend the rest of the morning in an even better mood than usual and you can tell the students are slightly cautious of it. When you return the thermos to Brittany - clean, of course - she laughs as you tell her the amount of students that were curiously eyeing the out of place item.

It definitely was throwing them off.

* * *

The next note appears about a week after you confess to Brittany that you've never had a blueberry muffin before. You tried not to laugh at the way she reacted to this news, like it was absolutely impossible to have lived your entire life without eating a single blueberry muffin.

You explained further that you've never really understood the appeal of muffins because they're basically just breakfast cupcakes and you don't really like cupcakes. If that didn't offend Brittany enough, you made things worse when she asked if you've ever had a banana-nut muffin, and again you told her no. She couldn't believe it. It was like you broke every rule in her book.

When you told her you'd give it a try the next time you're at a coffee shop, she quickly told you that she was going to give you some recommendations. That way they're _Brittany approved._

That's the reason the first thing you see this morning as you're walking into your classroom is a little container sitting on your desk. When you reach it, you recognize Brittany's handwriting immediately.

 _I tried every coffee shop blueberry muffin within a 5 mile radius but none of them were good enough to be your first. So instead I made up my own recipe. No pressure, but you better love it. - Britt_

You can't believe this woman. You smile at the postscript on the bottom. Always so thoughtful.

 _P.S. There's enough for your morning class, too. Don't forget to share._

You pin the note next to the others and open the container. You smell blueberries and smile at how cute the little muffins look. When you taste one, you can't believe you've lived your whole life without it.

You wonder how many coffee shops there are within a 5 mile radius, and if Brittany actually tried them all. There's no way she actually did that. You can't imagine anyone would be that extreme but then again, this is Brittany you're talking about.

A few days later, you're met with the same container but this time it's filled with a different flavor of muffin.

You silently wonder how Brittany manages to bake this many muffins and if maybe she has a slight problem she needs to get checked out.

Today's note though is short and sweet, and even ends with a little heart.

 _Banana-nut muffins are my favorite. Hope your day is filled with smiles! - Britt_

Your smile widens as you look over her handwriting. You don't understand how Brittany can be so _Brittany._ Like there's no real way to describe her. She's just _Brittany._

You're about to open the container when you hear a soft knock on your door. You turn your head and see Brittany at your doorway.

"You're early." She says as she smiles at you and steps inside.

"Are you planning on baking me muffins everyday, Britt?" You greet her and she giggles.

"Don't get used to it." She looks at the container in your hands and shifts slightly.

You briefly wonder if she's here to see if you're enjoying the muffins, but when you hear her stomach growl, you chuckle knowingly.

Embarrassed, she steps closer, "I forgot to grab one for myself." She explains and you slide the container closer to her. She happily opens it and pulls out a muffin for herself. You take the container back and she watches as you grab one too.

"So how long did it take you to make up this recipe?" You ask as you unravel the sleeve.

"Oh, I've been using this same recipe for years, now." She takes a bite and smiles, "It's the best."

You take a bite as well and when you make eye contact with Brittany she looks almost nervous, eager to know what you think.

The muffin is still warm, making you think she woke up early this morning just to bake them. And honestly, it's the best breakfast cupcake you've ever taste. "Oh my god, Britt, this so good." You say between chews. "I can see why you got so mad at me."

She rolls her eyes playfully, "I didn't get _mad_ at you. I just got very... _emotionally invested_."

"I hate to tell you this, Ms. Pierce, but I think you may have a problem." You grin and she ducks her head shyly.

You both eat your muffins in silence and you're happy for the company. You don't usually see Brittany in the mornings because you never get to work early enough to hang out. You also don't want to come off as the clingy new friend.

Before it's time for Brittany to leave, she watches as you move to the space behind your desk and pin her little note to your board. When you turn back to her she's looking at you questioningly.

"They keep me sane." You shrug and she smiles softly, accepting your explanation.

Later that day during lunch, you confess to Brittany that you didn't share your cupcakes with your class again like you were supposed to.

"I don't know if I can eat another." You sit back in you chair and try to regulate your breathing. You've already eaten your lunch and just ate another muffin for dessert.

Brittany giggles at you and slides her container of muffins away, just outside of reaching distance from you.

"As happy as I am that you like them so much, I think I'm going to have to confiscate this from you."

You groan and she laughs at you when you try to reach for the container, swatting your hand away and making you frown.

"This is why you're supposed to share with the kids." She scolds you before reaching around and poking your side.

"Don't say it." You warn her but she grins.

"Definitely a marshmallow."


	3. Halloween

_**Chapter 3: Halloween**_

You look in the mirror and sigh.

For the first time since you've been working here, you're finally starting to feel like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

It's Halloween and unlike everywhere else in the world, Brittany told you that GCA celebrates this particular holiday by dressing up as their favorite bible characters.

It actually surprises you that although you're not as religious as you once were, your mind doesn't even hesitate when thinking about who your favorite is _._ Growing up, you've spent endless nights thinking about the 'thief on the cross'.

A nameless criminal, a nobody, seeking repentance and forgiveness with his last, dying breaths. There, on the cross beside Christ, he found redemption in the end. He found forgiveness. Something about that always resonated with you. It's not a story of heroism or courage, but one of sin and salvation. A story of the flesh.

Definitely not something to dress up as at a children's school.

When you mentioned your dilema to Brittany, her eyes softened at the recognition of the story. Thankfully, she didn't push further or ask questions about why that particular tale has such a hold on you. When you asked her for ideas on what else you can dress up as, it actually almost scared you how excited she had become.

 _We can do a pairs costume!_

Brittany was practically jumping up and down at her own suggestion. You tried to turn her down but when she pouted and told you the other teachers never want to couple with her, you reluctantly agreed.

And that's how you found yourself standing in front of your mirror, dressed like a lion.

You're starting to see why the other teachers turned Brittany down.

You straighten the cat ears on your head and adjust the belt around your waist that's holding your tail in place. It could be worse, you tell yourself. At least it's not the full body suit that Brittany originally suggested, which you quickly shot down, no matter her pout.

You throw on your faux fur coat and inspect your outfit one last time. You have to admit you at least look cute. And it's an easy cop out because Brittany will do all the talking if anyone asks about your costumes.

Your phone chimes at you from your bed and you roll your eyes at Brittany's message.

 _Britt: People are starting to show up and I'm missing my lion._

 _San: Maybe you should've been the lion then._

 _Britt: I can't just be a lion with no Daniel, San. That's even more confusing._

 _San: I barely look like a lion. If anything, I look more like a giant kitten._

You look at the mirror do a little growl with claw hands. You look absolutely ridiculous.

 _Britt: Well then, can my giant kitten please hurry it up?_

 _San: Ugh, fine. I'm on my way._

As soon as you walk through the school doors you immediately realize why the other teachers don't pair up with Brittany.

None of them are dressed up.

"You fell for it didn't you?" A voice asks and you turn to see Emma, the English teacher. She smiles softly and pats you on your back. "It's okay, her pout can be quite powerful."

You're about to go back to your car for your change of clothes - because of course you brought some just in case - when Brittany appears beside you with the biggest smile you've ever seen.

You take in her outfit and she's covered in robes that make her look like she's literally straight out of the bible. The only thing unchanged is her hair, blonde locks falling over her shoulders. She looks radiant.

Before you know it, the both of you have gathered an audience and a few of the teachers are looking at you with apologetic smiles.

"Britt, I thought you said the teachers dress up, too?" You whisper through your teeth as you smile awkwardly. Some of the kids already pulling out their phones to take pictures.

"Did I?" She doesn't meet your eyes as she poses for the photos, her smile still just as wide. You frown at her words and when she sees it she scolds you to stay in character.

"Don't look so upset, San. The lions don't harm Daniel." She turns to you fully when your face stays unchanged, "I promise, I'll make it up to you. Just let me enjoy this, please?" She pouts again and you can't help it when your resolve crumbles.

"You owe me for this." You nudge her lightly and she squeals beside you, happy that you'll play along.

Throughout the day, the two of you are the talk of the school. You actually enjoy it more than you would ever admit. Even though the teachers keep looking at you like you're a sucker for being pulled into one of Brittany's traps, the look that she gives you every time you see her across the hall is worth every bit of it.

At lunch, after a few students ask for more photos of the two of you, Brittany apologies for tricking you.

"I'm sorry I did this to you. You must be so miserable right now." She frowns, making you feel like a horrible friend for allowing her to think you're not happy.

"No, I'm okay. Really." You try to tell her but her frown deepens. "Don't look at me like that, Britt."

"But I feel so bad now." She mumbles and you shake your head. You can't have her feeling like this.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure every other teacher in here is jealous right now because they were dumb enough to turn you down before." You motion to your outfits, "Look at how cute we are. We're _killing_ it."

That earns you a small smile from the blonde and you're glad. "We do look cute."

"We really do." You smile back and she holds your eyes for a few seconds before you look away, turning your attention back to your lunch.

Next thing you know, Brittany's reaching over and grabbing the cat ears on your head, placing them on her own. You can't help but laugh at the sight before you. Ms. Brittany Pierce, looking like a biblical cat, her chin tucked into her shoulder, posing as she bats her eyelashes.

You shake your head, smiling before grabbing your ears back and placing them rightfully on your own your head.

"I still can't believe I was able to trick you." She laughs.

"Yeah, well I packed a change of clothes in the car." You shrug, "Just in case I got cold feet."

"You would have left me hanging like that? Daniel with no lion?" Her mouth agape, making you smirk.

"I also packed a little stuffed toy lion."

She narrows her eyes, challenging you, "You did not."

"I did." You smile wider, chuckling, "I swear. I even went to some random toy store just to buy it."

It takes her a few seconds but eventually a small smile forms on her lips. The way she's looking at you, it's as if you're special but only she knows it. "You know, you're a really good friend, Santana."

Her words stun you. You had best friends in the past but your pretty sure you would've never done something like this for any of them. There's just something about Brittany that makes you want to ensure her happiness.

"I try." You brush off her compliment, pushing aside the thought that you might be getting a little ahead of yourself.

The rest of the day passes quickly and before you know it, the last bell rings. You pack your things slowly, hoping that Brittany will visit you before leaving.

When you realize you've been sitting at your desk with your purse on your shoulder for the last 10 minutes, you decide she must still be busy in her classroom. You turn your room lights off on the way out and make your way down the hall.

As you get closer to Brittany's classroom, you can faintly hear her singing. You smile as you imagine Brittany sitting there, grading assignments as the words of her favorite song float from her lips. It's always the same song. Always her favorite song. When you reach her door, you slowly turn in, hoping to catch her without being seen.

When your eyes find her, you lean on the frame and smile at what you see. It's so much better than what you had imagined.

Brittany has her hair up in a messy bun, one hand holding the side of her robes like a ballgown, and the other collecting papers off the students desks, as her feet glide along the floor. She's honest-to-God _waltzing_ by herself and for a second you think you might be witnessing a real-life scene from an actual disney movie.

She spins as she picks up the last paper and when she does, her eyes catch yours and she stumbles back.

"Oh my god. You scared me." She holds the papers to her chest and you do your best to hide your chuckle.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"How much of that did you see?" She blushes, moving back to her desk in the front to collect herself.

"Not much," You lie, not wanting her to feel anymore embarrassed than you're sure she already is.

Brittany glances at the clock on the wall and changes the subject, "You're leaving late." She says as she begins to put her papers in order on her desk. When she looks up at you again, her eyes run along your outfit and she smiles, "Did you really have fun today? It won't hurt my feelings if you didn't."

You move further into her classroom and take a seat at one of the student desks in the front. You smile at her genuinely, "I had so much fun today, Britt. Honest."

Her smile grows at your confession and you're happy she's happy again. She moves towards you and reaches for your headband again. But instead of grabbing them off your head, her hand rest slightly above, just caressing your 'ears'. You can't help but feel the gesture as a little intimate, and it causes you to shift below her.

She notices your reaction and steps back to a more comfortable distance. "Thank you for allowing me to humiliate you."

"It was only humiliating because I was caught off guard." You shake your head, "I would've never agreed to this if I knew none of the other teachers dress up."

"I know that's why I had to trick you." Brittany smiles proudly, "But now that you know," Her smile turns to a smirk, " We can prepare earlier for next year's costumes."

"Oh no." Your eyes widen, "Britt, I am definitely not going through this again."

"But you said you had fun."

You shake your head at her attempt to pout and pull you into this again, "Nu-uh. That face won't work on me a second time. I am not dressing up as a giant cat again."

"Well obviously. We're not going to do the same costume twice in row, San." She crosses her arms over her chest, "I was thinking…" she pauses, her smirk returning, "Jonah and the Whale."

Your jaw hits the floor.

"Am I supposed to be the whale?" Your mouth still wide open and Brittany holds her hand up to her mouth to hide her laughing, "I can't believe you just called me a whale!" You jump out of your seat and Brittany yelps when you try to reach for her.

You both laugh as she dodges the pens you throw at her from across her classroom. When you run out of ammo, she holds up a white sheet of paper from where she's crouching.

"Okay, okay." You laugh, walking up to her and offering her your hand. She takes it and you pull her to her feet.

"We don't have to dress up next year." Brittany tells you as she picks up a few of the pens on ground. "I guess one day of torture is enough."

You help her grab the last few, "Oh, I don't know." You smile, handing your portion of pens to her, "We could do Sleeping Beauty?"

Brittany's eyes widen as you mimic her earlier motions, waltzing - or attempting to waltz - as you hum _Once Upon a Dream._

When you reach the front you end with a twirl and catch Brittany's eyes. You're grinning at the way she looks absolutely stunned. You take a final bow and end it with a wink. Next thing you know, the entire collection of pens is being thrown at you and you're running out the room laughing.

* * *

Happy Halloween! Stay safe everyone :)


	4. Closer

_**Chapter 4: Closer**_

You're actually surprised at how much you enjoy working here. In the three months since you've started, you've acquired the reputation of being a 'hard but understanding' teacher. Brittany likes to tease you about it because she says it's all an act that you put on so that no one knows how sweet you really are.

You don't even attempt to correct her because she doesn't know your past. She doesn't know that you're only sweet with her.

"Britt, I have a favor to ask." You nervously bounce on the balls of your feet at the doorway of Brittany's classroom. She's sitting at her desk, reading the daily paper, her feet propped up casually on top of her desk.

At the sound of your voice, she looks up from behind her newspaper and glances at the clock on the wall. It's early in the morning, which is unusual for you, so it explains why she looks at you questioningly. She wasn't expecting to see you so early, but still there's a glint in her eyes. Carefully, she she folds up the newspaper and moves her feet off her desk.

"Should I be nervous?" Her eyebrow is raised in question and you smile, shaking your head.

"Remember when you kidnapped me and forced me to eat half of your lunch? Well, it was really good, and I can't stop thinking about it."

"Ahh." She smirks. "You want the recipe." Standing from her chair, she walks around her desk and sits at the edge of it. She motions to the student desk in front of her, "Have a seat, _Ms. Lopez_."

You chuckle at her and do as your told, ignoring the heat that rises to your cheeks as you feel her eyes follow you.

"What if I told you it was a secret family recipe?" Her eyes narrow. "Why should I give it to you for free?"

"Bri-" You try, but she stops you with a pointed look and you roll your eyes, deciding to play along, " _Ms. Pierce_ ," you continue and she smiles, "I've tried a few other recipes but they never come out as good as yours."

Brittany scrunches her face up as she pretends to ponder your words. You try not to laugh at how ridiculous she's being. She's extra playful today. You like it.

"Plus," you click your tongue, "you still owe me for Halloween."

She laughs, "Okay, fine. But, I have conditions. Invite me over and I'll help you make it. That way I know you won't mess it up."

"I'm free tonight?" You're quick to offer and you internally scold yourself at your eagerness. You need to be more careful.

Brittany smiles softly, "Tonight it is then."

You actually have to work hard to hide your excitement because you would have been content with just getting the damn recipe. Now you'll have the recipe and dinner with Brittany. You stand and offer her your hand to seal the deal.

* * *

A new development is the fact that you now sit in on Brittany's class after lunch since you're already there and you have a free period with no music classes. Honestly, this job is more laid back than you originally thought it would have been but you're not about to start complaining.

Not when you get to watch Brittany teach from the back of her classroom.

To say that Brittany S. Pierce is an unconventional teacher is putting it lightly. She really is the most interesting person you've ever meet and you're still not quite sure how her brain works. The students genuinely enjoy being in her class and you can easily see why she's the school favorite. Her class is always filled with laughter and you feel almost honored to witness it when a student's faces light up once they finally understand a particularly hard math problem.

You don't know why it became a regular thing to watch Brittany teach. You like to tell yourself that you just want to learn more about her. Math was never your strong suit, but if you had someone like Brittany as a teacher, you think school would have been a little more enjoyable.

You sit back in your chair and relax into the seat. You still have a few assignments to grade but when you look up and make eye contact with Brittany you catch a little glimmer in her eyes. Next thing you know you're at the front of the class - practically dying from laughter - while Brittany demonstrates probability using you, a pair of dice, a banana, string, and some marbles. You don't know how she comes up with these things, but you love it.

When it gets closer to the end of class, Brittany hands out a pop quiz and every student groans in unison. You retreat to the back of the class as Brittany takes her seat in the front. Periodically, you look up to check on the students scribbling quickly on their tests. You catch Brittany's eyes and giggle when she makes a funny face at you.

It's nice, this relationship you've developed with her. You've grown even closer these past few weeks and you're almost giddy at the idea of having an actual best friend. You've never really had one of those before. Well, _technically_ you have but none like Brittany. None that you actually want to spend this much time with.

A student stands to hand in his test and returns to his seat. You watch him closely as he attempts to go on his phone to pass the time. Kids these days are so dumb.

"Ahem." You clear your throat, and he turns in his seat slowly. "Don't you have homework you can work on?" You narrow your eyes, knowing he's in your earlier class. You really shouldn't be so smug. This is exactly why you have that stupid reputation.

"Sorry, Ms. Lopez." He apologizes and drops his phone back into his book bag.

Your laptop to your left dings and you're quick to turn the sound off before checking the message.

 _Pierce, B: Sorry, Ms. Lopez._

You almost snort. When you look up, Brittany's casually reading the daily paper, the same one you already know she read from this morning. This time though, there's a small hint of a smile on her lips.

 _Lopez, S: Ms. Pierce, don't you have some grading to do?_

You watch her roll her eyes when she reads your message.

 _Pierce, B: I rather not. It gets boring really fast when I'm just sitting here. I hate tests..._

You have to laugh a little because you know she really does hate them. She's told you on more than one occasion that she prefers to teach by standing in front and talking with her students. If she could, you know she would never give out another test. Your computer notifies you of another message and you see that Brittany sent a second message.

 _Pierce, B: Hey, let's ditch this place. We could go get a smoothie! I know a great place down the street._

 _Lopez, S: Britt, we're in a classroom full of students. We can't just leave._

 _Pierce, B: Yeah but if you leave first and I leave second then no one would think anything of it._

 _Lopez, S: I hate to tell you this, Britt, but that doesn't really work in this kind of situation…_

 _Pierce, B: You need to loosen up, Santana. Have a little fun in life!_

You look up, so you can scold her with your eyes but catch another student trying to use their phone. Clearing your throat, this time louder than the last, you get the whole classes attention.

"Just a reminder that all cell phones should be _OFF_ and in your school bags. Next time I see one I'll be collecting phones from the entire class. You'll be able to collect them from me at the end of school." Your voice is firm, and the students know better by now than to test you. You see an overall shift as they straighten their backs and pull in their chairs. No one daring enough to look back. Brittany is already frowning deeply when you look back to her.

 _Pierce, B: Ms. Lopez, that was mean._

 _Lopez, S: That was hardly mean._

 _Pierce, B: See, this is why the other teachers are too scared to talk to you._

 _Lopez, S: What on earth are you talking about? I am an absolute JOY to be around._

 _Pierce, B: You're completely hopeless. I don't know what to do with you._

 _Lopez, S: Maybe you need to start respecting me as much as the students do, Ms. Pierce._

You look up and watch her as she reads your message. An eyebrow goes up at first and then her lips pull into a grin. You make a mental note to play poker with her sometime. Her tell is so obvious.

 _Pierce, B: Oh, really now? Well, you're just going to have to make me then._

 _Lopez, S: It wouldn't be too hard. I can be very persuasive. In more ways than one._

You regret your reply the moment you press send. That was definitely going too far. You look up and hope that Brittany doesn't read into it in the way that you definitely _did not_ mean to make it sound.

You watch carefully as she looks at her screen, a faint tint of pink forms across her cheeks. When she looks up at you, you duck your head to avoid her eyes. Shortly after, you receive Brittany's reply.

 _Pierce, B: Tonight's gonna be fun then._

Your eyes immediately dart up to Brittany, hoping for the chance to read her body language. She's already looking at you expectantly and when your eyes meet, _she winks_. You feel your heart stop.

Or at least that's what your brain thinks happened. You're pretty sure this could be misconstrued as flirting. You and Brittany. Flirting. You shake the thought away. You're obviously reading into this wrong. This is Brittany you're talking about. This is just how best friends talk to each other.

You tell yourself to stop looking too into things. You tell the butterflies in your stomach to simmer down. It's too silly for you to even entertain the idea that Brittany is flirting with you. Look around at where you are. You're finally in a good place in life right now. You finally have a best friend and a good job. Don't mess this up. Not again.

Shaking your head, you look up slowly and Brittany seems unfazed. She's begun to grade the few tests that have been turned in. She's concentrated, tongue slightly sticking out. You turn back to your computer.

 _Lopez, S: Gotta go, Britt. Gonna head back to my classroom before next period._

You pick up your things and leave it at that.

* * *

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you check your hair and outfit one more time. You hope Brittany finds your place okay. You glance back at the living room and do a mental check to make sure everything looks okay.

You spent the last half hour rearranging the couch pillows because you weren't sure about the color scheme. Now that you're looking at them again, you hate how it looks.

Before you can move to change it again, your doorbell rings. Taking a deep breath, you rub your hands on your jeans to dry your sweaty palms. You don't know why your hands are betraying you in this way, it's just dinner with your best friend. It's just dinner with Brittany.

You open the door and your eyes land on Brittany's beaming face. You glance down at her outfit, seeing her in something other than her work clothes. She's wearing ripped jeans and a slightly oversized t-shirt. She's also holding a bottle of wine in her hand. She looks absolutely adorable.

It isn't until she shifts in place that you realize you might have been staring a little too long.

"Sorry, come in."

"Thank you." She steps inside and you watch nervously as she looks around, taking in your home. When you shut the door behind her, she speaks up again. "I like it here." She turns, smiling at you. "It's very, _Santana._ "

You don't know what she means by that, but you accept it. You think it's because of the darker walls and the way everything is put away in its own little place. Or maybe it's the keyboard piano you have tucked in the corner of the living room, where a normal person would have put a TV. But you don't have a TV. You haven't been living here long but you've at least managed to make it home in your own kind of way.

You lead her into the kitchen and she puts the wine bottle down on the counter. You grab two wine glasses and place them next to the bottle.

"Wine first, then cooking?" You ask.

"Definitely."

About an hour later, you've both polished off the bottle that Brittany brought and now your opening one of your own. Cooking with Brittany is about as calm as cooking with a monkey. It's hectic. Add alcohol to the mix and your kitchen is a complete mess. You don't exactly mind because seeing Brittany this relaxed and carefree makes it all worth it.

At one point during cooking, you put some music on. After a few songs, you couldn't help but sing along. This urged Brittany on - or maybe the wine did - to grab your arm, pulling you near her to dance with the music.

When the song finishes, you're out of breath and so is Brittany. She goes back to the oven, remembering that she was supposed to be watching it.

"You shouldn't hide your talents, Santana. You have a beautiful singing voice." She tells you as you cut some lettuce for the salad and put it in a bowl.

You actually laugh at that, "You're one to talk, Ms. Dance Extraordinaire." You quip back, and she blushes. She wasn't exactly dancing a full routine, but when you think back to her waltzing and now tonight, you could tell that she's experienced.

There's a loud beep and Brittany opens the oven slightly to inspect if the fish is cooked to her liking. Satisfied with how it looks, she moves closer to you to grab the oven mitts on the counter beside you. You're sort of in the middle so when she reaches around your waist, she inadvertently pushes you forward into the counter with her body.

Your breath hitches, and Brittany notices your reaction.

"Sorry," she whispers near your ear, "I thought they were closer to me."

It takes you a second, but you manage to mumble, "No problem." You feel the heat rise on your skin, but you think it must be because of all the wine you've been drinking. Thankfully, the moment is over quickly when Brittany reaches the oven mitts and moves away from you.

You walk out of the kitchen as soon as your free from her and go to set the table. Brittany walks in with the food just as you finish. You tell her where to put it down before running back into the kitchen to grab the salad.

"I don't think my home has ever smelt this good before." You tell her, and she laughs.

"I thought you said you tried other recipes? I'm sure they all smell just as similar." She takes her seat and you sit across from her.

"I lied. I just needed an excuse to steal your secret recipe." You smirk, and she feigns shock. You take a bite of the fish and you groan at how good it is, making her giggle.

"It's just a simple baked salmon, Santana. You don't have to pretend to love it."

You look up from stuffing your face, "No really," You try your best to not look like a caveman, "It's so good, Brittany." She just shakes her head in disbelief and giggles again at your antics.

Dinner goes on without Brittany mentioning your slip up during your earlier conversation in her classroom and you're glad. You don't think you can handle talking about that right now. Not when you're both a few glasses of wine in and you're alone with her in your house.

Instead the conversation floats to the usual subjects. She asks about your childhood and where you grew up and all you tell her is Ohio. Thankfully, she gets the hint and stays away from that topic. You ask her about the church and she mumbles something about not having to talk about it if you don't want to. She knows it's another touchy subject for you but still, you feel bad that she thinks you'd think less of her for being religious.

She quickly moves on to talk about work, and you tell her who your favorite students are. This of course prompts her to scold you for even having favorite students _._

"You must have favorites, Britt. It's only natural."

"First of all, all students are special in their own way."

"Yeah yeah. But some are just a _little_ more special."

"You're horrible."

"Oh come on, you have to have favorites. At least _one_." You watch as her eyes look to the ceiling. "Right there. You just thought of someone."

"Santana…"

You laugh at her pout and she blushes. You don't let her leave the dining table until she reluctantly reveals who all of her favorite students are but only under the promise of never having to speak of it again.

The night ends with Brittany helping you clean up your kitchen. You tried to stop her, but she reasoned with you by saying she made most of the mess. Which although true, you weren't about to let her clean your kitchen by herself. It at least allowed you both the time to sober up for her to drive home safely.

After the kitchen is spotless, you walk her to the front door and open it for her. She almost walks across the threshold but stops herself short and turns to you suddenly. You're about to ask her if she forgot anything when she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in for a hug.

You're frozen. This is new territory for you. It's only ever been shoulder nudges, high fives, and fist bumps. Cautiously, you embrace her at her waist and hold her softly.

"Thanks for tonight." she whispers.

"Anytime, Britt." You find yourself whispering as well and you breathe in her scent. Reluctantly, you pull back and she tucks her hair behind her ear before turning around and leaving. You watch as her car drives down the street until it's no longer in your line of sight.

Later that night, you lie in bed and your phone lights up with a notification. You roll over and grab it, smiling when you see Brittany's name.

 _Britt: Just so you know, I lied too. When I said it was a family recipe…_

 _San: So that wasn't some super secret Pierce family recipe?_

 _Britt: Nope. I just needed an excuse to invite myself over._

You blush softly as a small smile begins to find its way onto your face.

 _San: I'm so glad you did, Britt._

 _Britt: Me too, San. Sweet dreams._

When you read her message, you turn onto your back and place your phone on your chest. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face. You look at your phone again and pay extra attention to the single kiss emoji she ended her message with.

You're in trouble.


	5. Flirt

_**Chapter 5: Flirt**_

The flirting doesn't stop. In fact, it's actually gotten a lot worse. In the past few weeks since dinner at your house, the subtle messages here and there have turned into obvious in-person interactions.

You tell yourself that it's just a thing you two do now. Like a game, where in the end, you'll both laugh at whoever blushes first. It's honestly sickening how much you're enjoying it, but you never imagined you'd ever feel this way with someone again. Especially given the setting you're in.

"Hey, hun." Brittany winks at you when you walk into her classroom with your lunch in hand. The new nickname is not lost on you as you try your very best to hold back the smile that tugs at your lips. She started saying it a few days ago and you can't help but feel the flutter in your chest every time.

The first time she said it actually stunned you. You didn't know how to react. She laughed when you awkwardly looked around to see if she was talking to you or someone else.

"Britt, although I'm loving the new nickname, you've got to stop calling me that before people around here start getting the wrong idea." You pull up a student's chair to the other side of her desk.

"You're no fun." She pouts, and you shake your head at her. She can be too cute for her own good sometimes. "What am I supposed to call you then?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe _Santana_? Or _San_? I'd even accept _Ms. Lopez_ from time to time."

"But those names don't make you blush the way you do when I call you _hun_."

"I'm ethnic, sweetie. I don't blush." You challenge with a raised eyebrow and your own nickname for her.

Brittany's hardly fazed by that and instead grins back at you, leaning forward, accepting the challenge. "You mean to tell me," her voice lowers, "you really wouldn't blush if I were to I call you... _babe_?"

There goes your heart. You do your best to hold her stare but when her eyes cast down to your lips for split second you turn away, feeling the heat burn from your neck to your cheeks.

"Dammit, Britt!" You curse and she doubles over in laughter. You ignore the fact that the fluttering in your chest doesn't exactly go away.

* * *

You're sitting at one of your student's desks at the end of the day. It's late and the school is likely empty by now. Once you finished grading the last few projects, you felt a little inspired.

With headphones on, plugged into the keyboard, you conceal the soft sounds of the music you're creating. This isn't the first time you've done this and although you have a keyboard at home, there's just something compelling about playing here.

Quietly, you sing along as you play the familiar tune. The same song that you can't seem to get out of your head.

 _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream_

 _I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_

From time to time, you'll catch yourself singing it. You don't dare admit to yourself that it's probably because it reminds you of a certain blonde. You know you shouldn't be feeling this way. You know it doesn't do you any good, but you can hardly stop yourself now. It's too late and you know it.

The feeling of eyes on you causes goosebumps to form on your skin but you ignore it. You're too focused on the music. It's only when the light flickers that you finally look up, finding Brittany standing in your doorway. Slowly, you take your headphones off. The simple sight of her standing there, a soft adoring smile on her lips, is enough to quicken the pace of your heartbeat.

"Hey." Slowly, she makes her way to the desk beside yours.

"I didn't think anyone was still here."

"Do you do that often?" She asks and you're unsure of what she's really asking. Stay after school to play on the keyboards? Or stay after school to play _that song_? _Her song._

You shrug as your answer, not trusting your mouth to say the right thing.

"You really do have a beautiful voice, you know." The way she's looking at you, it's almost affectionately. "And I really like that song."

 _I know_. Is what you want to say. Instead, you settle for a quiet nod. She mimics your nod and soon you're settled into a quiet silence. This happens more often nowadays and you're still cautious of what it means. It's not exactly comfortable but it's not uncomfortable either. All you know is every time, she's almost always unreadable like this.

"Sorry, did you need me for something?" You suddenly ask, realizing that she came to your classroom so she must have had a reason.

She shakes her head though, "No, I saw your light on from the hallway so I stopped by to check. But now that I have you here, what are your plans for tonight?"

You pretend to think about it for a little too long and she laughs, playfully pushing your shoulder. "Come back to my place." She proposes, and you raise an eyebrow at her suggestion.

"On a school night, Ms. Pierce? How irresponsible."

"Let's go, grandma." She rolls her eyes, laughing, and pulls you to your desk to grab your bag before pushing you completely out of your classroom. "It's movie night time!"

* * *

You walk into Brittany's house for the first time and smile. Just like you do every time you see her, her home has the same effect on you. It's bright and bubbly and _very Brittany_. You laugh to yourself because you remember that was how she described your home. _Very Santana._

Your hands are occupied with grocery bags because obviously Brittany ordered you to make a pit stop for movie night snacks. When you asked about dinner, she looked almost offended.

 _Movie night is snacks only, Santana._ And really, who are you to question her?

Brittany giggles when she notices you standing awkwardly, not knowing where to go, and she points you in the direction of the kitchen. You take that as your cue to move your feet, so you do as you're told, placing the paper bags on her kitchen counter.

"Okay, so clearly we have to watch this tonight." Brittany yells from the living room and you follow her voice back the way you came. When you get there, she's standing by the TV, holding up a DVD of Sleeping Beauty.

You laugh and tell her you're fine with it. She does a little jump of excitement before bending down to put it in the player. You take your seat on her couch and she runs into the kitchen.

When she returns, she plops down an armful of snacks onto her coffee table and clothes are thrown onto your lap. You inspect the pieces of clothing before looking questioningly at the blonde, quickly noticing the fact that she's already changed her clothes into similar ones.

"Movie Night is also pajamas only." She explains, and you chuckle at how adorable she is. Again, who are you to question her?

You make your way to the guest bathroom to change into Brittany's pajamas. Once you're in her clothes, you take a moment to appreciate what you're wearing. Brittany's pajama shorts are soft and cute, while her shirt, which looks like an old cheerleading shirt from her high school days, has the word EVANGELS spread out across the chest. Happy with how you look, you fix your hair one last time before heading back to the living room.

When she sees you, her eyes trace your figure and you think you catch a faint blush on her cheeks, but you ignore it as you take your place beside her on the couch.

The movie starts, and Brittany settles in, pulling her legs up onto her couch. You, on the other hand, do your very best to keep your eyes on the screen in front of you.

"You don't have to be so stiff, Santana. It's just me." Brittany giggles beside you and you let out the breath you've been unintentionally holding. Cautiously, you lean back, settling into her couch. You suppose she takes that as good enough because she doesn't say more. She hands you some snacks and you're grateful that you have something to keep your hands occupied instead of just awkwardly placing them on your lap.

About half an hour into the movie, you find yourself not really watching anymore because at some point, Brittany decided to shift her weight and lay her head on your shoulder. When it happened, you had to focus all of your energy to resist turning towards her. You don't know what you would've done if you were to look into those eyes while being that close. Well actually, you do know but you tell yourself it would've been done purely out of instinct of course, not because of _other_ reasons.

"This is my favorite part." Brittany mumbles and you can't help but smile, knowing what song is about to play. You watch as the animals on the screen take the form of Aurora's 'Dream Prince' and when the familiar song starts, you sing along softly. Unfortunately, this causes Brittany to shift so you stop singing immediately.

"No, keep going," she whispers, dropping her hand between the two of you, linking her pinky with yours and giving it a soft squeeze. "I love hearing you sing."

Silently, you wonder if Brittany can hear your heartbeat from where her head is placed. You wonder if she heard it skip when her pinky linked with yours. When you don't continue to sing along she squeezes again and it doesn't take much more than that to get you to start signing again. You're momentary lapse in brain activity is the only thing to blame for your hesitation because really, you'd sing at her request any day.

Brittany doesn't let go of your pinky for the rest of the movie and you even manage find the strength to lean a little against her, too. You're not going to lie, it feels nice to be with her like this. Even though deep down, you know it shouldn't. You know this is platonic. You're just being selfish.

Once the credits start rolling, Brittany doesn't make any effort to move. You think she might've fallen asleep because the grip on your pinky has loosened in the past ten minutes, but she shifts slightly, letting you know she's still awake.

"Have you ever been in love?" Her voice is soft as she grabs hold of your pinky tightly again. Although the movie is what most likely prompted her question, your heart jumps at the thought of Brittany asking about your love life.

"Once. A long time ago." You tell her honestly. "But it didn't last." You think back to all those years ago and picture your high school sweetheart. When love was simple. Before everything got all screwed up.

"What was he like?" she asks and for the second time today you feel the goosebumps rise on your skin. This time due to her line of questioning. Maybe this is your chance to finally say something. It's wide open, all you have to do is tell her. All it would take is a simple correction of pronoun and then she'll know. She deserves to know.

You chicken out. "Everything I thought I needed at the time. But we were young, too young to know for sure what either of us wanted."

"Was he your Prince Phillip?"

"Definitely not." You turn your head slightly to look at her. Her head is still down, blonde hair falling past your own shoulders. You resist the urge to reach up and move some stray strands that have fallen across her face. Glancing down at your hands, her pinky still linked with yours, you whisper, "I guess I'm still waiting for mine to notice me."

You turn away quickly, feeling like you went too far again. You can't just start confessing your feelings like this. You know better than to let thoughts like that slip.

You try not to feel hurt at the thought that Brittany only sees you as her best friend because obviously that's what you two are. But you've known for a while now that you want more. That if there was even the slightest chance to be with her, you would do it, no matter how hurt this would surely leave you in the end. You'd do it in a heartbeat.

And if you're being honest, you've probably known that from the first moment you met her. You were a confirmed goner as soon you received that first note. There was no hope in getting out alive. You can try your best to push these feelings down, but ultimately you know how you feel about her.

You hate yourself for falling for this again. You hate that this will most likely lead to you getting your heart broken, again.

"I don't have a Prince Phillip, either." Brittany sits up, removing her head from your shoulder and you miss the contact immediately. She turns her body to face you, crossing her legs on top of the couch as her eyes dance across your face, as if she's reading you. Finally, after you shift under her stare, she smiles softly. "I'm glad you're not an old lady."

You laugh at her random confession, grateful for the ease in tension. "I am also very glad I'm not an old lady."

"The last music teacher was a mean old lady." She explains, giggling. "She never let me in her classroom, and she definitely wouldn't have come over for a movie night."

"She sounds like a horrible human. Thank god, I'm nothing like her."

A certain twinkle appears in Brittany's eyes and it makes you wonder what she's up to. "Come to think of it..." she leans forward, smirking, "I don't think she was ticklish, either. So that must mean-"

Your eyes widen in realization and you're fast to hold your hands up, "Britt, no." You look at her pointedly but her smile only grows. "I mean it! I can be very violent!" You yell just as she lunges forward and attacks your sides.

Brittany's laugh echoes throughout her entire living room and your screams, you're sure, could be heard at least a block away. "You _are_ ticklish!" She bellows, and you do your best to wiggle out from under her without causing her any harm.

By the time you're finally free, you find yourself standing at the other end of the living room, keeping as far away distance from Brittany as possible, trying to catch your breath. Brittany on the other hand, is practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

When your breathing calms, you grin down at her, "Oh _,_ _Britt_ , I wonder..." singing her name as you step closer to her.

"Wait, San-," She tries to talk through her laughter, but she can't catch her breath. You take another step closer again and she's quick to sit up as she shakes her head, holding her hands up to keep you away, "I'm sorry," she laughs, "I promise, I won't do it again."

"Okay, fine." You raise your hands in surrender. Your actions of course allows you the opening you need to get close enough to tackle her back down in a fit of laughter. Your hands quickly move to her sides and this time the roles are reversed.

"San!" Brittany manages to yell through her laughter, and you slow your movements. When your hands completely stop, Brittany has a chance to finally catch her breath. You realize that your straddling her, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Truce?" You hold out your hand, and she cautiously eyes it from beneath you.

"You tricked me before," her eyes narrow at you and you hold back your giggle, "How do I know you're not tricking me now?

"Because I'm the one on top of you. If I really wanted to, I could have my way." You smirk down at her and a smile sneaks its way onto her features.

"Is that a promise?"

Her words shoot down your spine and your body shivers at the realization of how much of your skin is actually in contact with hers. Awkwardly, you laugh and stumble to one side, allowing Brittany to wiggle out from beneath you.

"You're too easy, Santana." She giggles, nudging your shoulder and you respond with another awkward laugh. "Come on, let's get you home before you die of embarrassment."

She walks you to her front door and wraps her arms around you in embrace. You've come to really love Brittany's hugs. They feel honest and wholesome. Like your whole world is better because of just this hug. You feel like an addict, addicted to all things Brittany and you can't seem to get enough even when you know it's bad for you.

It isn't until you get home that you realize you're still wearing her pajamas so you send her a quick text apologizing for stealing her clothes. When you finally fall onto your mattress after you've finish getting ready for bed, you see Brittany's response.

 _Britt: You look good in my clothes. Keep it._


	6. Avoidance

_**Chapter 6: Avoidance**_

Everything about your friendship with Brittany changes on the Thursday before Christmas break.

"Can I ask you something?" Brittany turns to you as soon as Will starts his sermon. Per usual, the both of you are tucked away in the back corner of the auditorium manning the sound booth.

The tone of her voice scares you. You don't think you've ever heard her sounding this cautious so you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing. You nod though, encouraging her to continue.

"Why haven't you come to Sunday services, yet?"

At her question, your eyes widen. Of all the things she could've asked about, you weren't expecting _that_.

Brittany had told you when you first met that she wouldn't pressure you, but it's been four months now and she has a right to be at least be a little curious. So far she's been good about not bringing up the topic of religion. You know it's because she's respecting your privacy, but you can't help but wonder if there's a part of Brittany that you're not privy to because of it. You don't like the idea that she doesn't talk to you about certain things because she thinks you won't understand.

She shifts slightly and speaks up again. "If you still don't want to talk about it, I'll understand, but you mentioned something happened to you before, at another church. Was it really that serious?"

You sigh, looking away towards the stage. You knew this was going to come up sooner or later. Brittany's your best friend and at some point, you knew you'd have to come clean. You just wish it wasn't right now, during chapel, in the middle of a church.

"We're best friends, right?" You ask, not daring to look to your right for her answer, you already know she's nodding. "And if I told you this, will you promise me you won't freak out?"

"Santana, you're scaring me." Brittany's voice is laced with worry now. She turns to face you fully and you chance a glance to your right. Concern written all over her features, she reaches out and holds your hand tightly to comfort you. It results in the opposite effect however, making you even more nervous.

It's now or never.

"I was outed." You take a breath, watching her face carefully. "Or more like _forced_ out. The church my family attended for as long as I could remember made sure I knew I wasn't welcome anymore." You're hopeful that she'll understand what you're saying without having to explain further. Your eyes hold hers as you try to interpret her reaction.

You watch as Brittany thinks over your words for a minute, but it doesn't seem to be connecting for her. "I don't understand." She finally says, shaking her head slowly. "Are you saying they banned you from going back to church? Why would they even do that? How-"

"Brittany." You stop her, "I was forced _out_." You emphasize the 'out' this time because maybe she'll catch the hint. Taking another breath, you prepare yourself for what's to come.

You're scared of losing her. You actually pray you don't.

Brittany's face still reads as confused until finally it clicks, and she suddenly lets go of your hand. "Oh." Your chest aches at the loss of contact and you break eye contact immediately. "Oh. Oh my god." She says, probably to herself. You can feel her staring at you until eventually she looks away.

You close your eyes, begging your tears to stay where they are. "Shit, I'm sorry, Britt. I shouldn't have told you this yet. This isn't the time or place." When you open your eyes again, she's noticeably uncomfortable.

She shakes her head and turns her body away from you so that she's facing the front again. "No, it's not that, I just- I mean-" you watch as she wrings her hands in front of her, "I'm sorry, I'm kind of at a loss for words, right now."

"I don't want you to think I was avoiding it for no reason. It's a long story but as soon as I was old enough, I got out of Ohio. I left that whole life behind."

Maybe you can talk your way around this.

"So..." She looks awkwardly at you, "So you aren't… um…"

 _Shit_. You can't lie to her. "I am." You say quickly, a little too quickly. "I mean, I am… _that_." _A lesbian_. "But the church convinced my parents to put me through ' _healing'_ therapy sessions. It was horrible. That's why I'm so reluctant, Britt. I haven't really attended a real church service in more than ten years now."

Brittany shifts uncomfortably again and you know it's a losing battle. No matter how you frame it.

You dreaded this conversation. You knew that once Brittany found out about what happened, it would definitely change things between you too.

Now that Brittany knows about your past, _and your preferences_ , you know she's probably pulling into question all of the conversations you've had with her over the past four months. She's probably mentally going over every interaction, picking it apart one by one, reexamining your intentions.

You hate this feeling. You hate the idea that Brittany is realizing that your innocent flirting might not have been so innocent after all. You feel dirty. Like you were taking advantage of her natural charm and sweet demeanor.

You push down the thought that you probably were.

You're so fucking selfish. You didn't want to stop. You wanted it to go on because you secretly wished – no, hoped – that maybe this time it would all work out in the end. You should've known better. You did know better.

"And that means, you're actually waiting on a _princess_?" She looks at you and you're reminded of the conversation you had on her couch after watching Sleeping Beauty. She scrunches up her face, "A Princess... _Phyllis_?"

Even in a state of panic, Brittany somehow still manages to make you smile, "Well, I'm not so sure about that name but, yeah Britt, I'm waiting on a princess."

Her eyes linger on yours for a moment, and your mind finds a sliver of hope. Maybe you've been overthinking all of this. Maybe you're being dramatic for no good reason. It isn't until she mumbles a quiet ' _I see_ ' and looks away from you that you realize this really isn't going to go in the direction you hoped. You duck your head in shame and for the first time since working here, you feel trapped in this booth.

The rest of chapel is spent in silence between the two of you. You don't make any more attempts to talk to her or reason with her. You know she needs time to fully digest this new information. She's a good Christian girl after all. Actually, she's the _perfect_ Christian girl. She's practically the school's golden child.

On the walk back to the school building, she tells you that she can't have lunch with you today because she forgot she had to take care of some things. You don't even question her. When you get inside, she offers you an apologetic smile and walks away. You don't go after her.

You don't see her for the rest of the day.

* * *

By the next day, you're determined to let Brittany decide where your relationship stands. You don't make any attempts to push her or make her feel more uncomfortable than she clearly already does.

It's the last school day before Christmas break and you've decided to not go to Brittany's classroom for lunch, even if she never officially 'uninvited' you this time. Instead, you're spending your lunch period in the teacher's lounge. Secretly, you hope she would walk in to ask you why you are sitting in here and not in her room. That doesn't happen though.

"Why, hello there, Santana." You lift your head and see Mrs. Miller, smiling down at you. You smile in return and she takes a seat across from you. It's weird interacting with other teachers, mainly because you've been spending most of your time with Brittany.

"Not eating with Brittany today?" She asks, and you shake your head. She must've gotten the hint that you're not really in a talking mood because she doesn't pry any further. The room is quiet, except for a few other teachers coming in and out to heat up their food or pour some coffee.

Another teacher sits at your table and he greets you both. "Santana, it's nice to finally sit with you," he laughs, "Brittany's been monopolizing you." You force yourself to laugh at his joke. Mr. Liu is a nice enough man but right now you didn't need to be reminded a second time that Brittany isn't talking to you.

"Any fun plans for Christmas?" he asks you. You shake your head in response and when they both look at you like they're expecting you to continue, you sigh.

"I don't have any family here. They're all back in Ohio." You explain, but they still look at you for more. "I'm not really close with them anyways."

"That's so sad." Mrs. Miller looks at you with sympathy. She's an older woman so you think she probably takes on the motherly role for a lot of the younger teachers. That's also why you don't address her as _Teresa_ , it would feel weird to do so. "You'll be coming to the staff party on Christmas Eve then, right?"

You hadn't planned on it. But then again you were waiting to see if Brittany was going before making your decision. You guess now you really shouldn't either way. You know you'll stick out like a sore thumb and you don't really feel like you're up for socializing with the other teachers.

"You have to come." Mr. Liu speaks up, "At the very least you'll be fed a nice meal for Christmas. You don't even have to bring anything."

Same as Mrs. Miller, Mr. Liu has been teaching at Grace Christian Academy for more than 20 years. Together, they're the last of the OG staff still working here. They probably know Brittany more than her own parents. They helped shape her into who she is now.

"I don't know…"

"Oh, come on," the older woman pleads, "It'll at least give the rest of us a chance to get to know you. I'm just going to put your name down." She decides for you and you don't fight her on it. She has a point. If you no longer have a best friend, you need to start getting along with the other teachers.

"Perfect." Mr. Liu stands, "I'll see you ladies next week at the party." He excuses himself and the bell rings shortly after.

When you're walking back to your classroom you see Brittany walking down the same hall. When she looks up and sees you, she stops. Then she awkwardly stumbles on whether or not she wants to walk past you or turn around.

You try not to feel hurt when she decides to turn around, heading back the way she was coming from. You make it to your classroom and turn on your laptop. You have your free period now and you don't know what to do.

Yesterday, after you didn't have lunch together, you knew it would've been weird for you to go and sit in her class like you usually would. You tried your best to keep busy, re-organizing your room and performing some light cleaning.

Now, you find yourself staring at the chat you have with Brittany, trying to talk yourself down from messaging her. You thought she needed some time but after what just happened in the hallway, you can't help but feel like you've ruined things between the two of you. You know she has every reason to be wary of you, but is it enough for her to actively avoid you?

 _Lopez, S: Are you mad at me?_

You stare at the message you just sent and cringe. So smooth. You hadn't expected to actually press send but your stupid finger acted on their own. But when you see that Brittany has read your message and has begun typing, you pull your chair closer to your desk in anticipation.

 _Pierce, B: I'm so embarrassed. I don't know why I did that…_

She's talking about the fact that she very obviously turned and walked away when she saw you. She knows it hurt you, but you're glad she's at least still talking to you. You try your hand and send her another message.

 _Lopez, S: I'm still the same person, B._

You watch your screen as you wait for her response. It shows her typing for more than a few minutes and the anxiety from waiting rises quickly. You can feel your chest tighten and your breath shorten.

Finally, Brittany's response comes in.

 _Pierce, B: I know, I'm sorry. I just need some time, okay?_

It's short. Too short for the amount of time she spent ' _typing'_ but you understand. You got the message loud and clear. Not wanting to push any further, you close the chat, determined to give her the space she needs. You're at least grateful that it's Christmas break for the next three weeks. You don't want to have any more awkward lunches with Mrs. Miller and Mr. Liu.

* * *

The following week passes slowly. You do your best to keep busy, but you hate leaving your house. Every time you do you're met with Christmas cheer and you can't stand it. The holiday season is never easy for you because you're constantly reminded that you have no one, no family. You've tried the whole 'going home for Christmas' thing a few times but that always ended in a family screaming match.

Your parents don't approve of your _lifestyle_ and sure, the world has changed since then but your parents still haven't. It's better to just keep your distance. You even used to send them Christmas cards with updates on your life after you stopped going home for the holidays, but they never once returned the gesture. It's been about two years now since you've sent them anything at all.

Your mind wanders to Brittany and the fact that she has an entire support system here. How she probably never felt alone the way you did. Or do. You want to ask her how that feels but you're in no position to do that anymore.

Now that it's been a week into Christmas break you actually kind of hate it. You hate not knowing where you stand with Brittany. You hate not being able to see her face. At least then you could get a clue of what she's thinking. When you saw her avoiding you, you knew for sure she wasn't ready to talk.

Being on break means you can't even get that. It's Schrodinger's Cat, your relationship with Brittany being both alive and dead.

You're stuck in limbo.

The last few days have also forced you to give up on telling yourself that you only want Brittany to go back to being just your best friend. You've known for a long time now that you've developed these intense feelings for her. It's not like you could've stopped yourself even if you tried. But, at the very least, you want things to go back to the way they were, with Brittany being oblivious to your pinning.

It was safer that way.

Now, the only thing you have to look forward to is possibly seeing Brittany at the staff Christmas party tomorrow. You turn your head on the couch to look at the small gift box on the coffee table. It's a small gold anklet with a cross pendent. When you were out shopping a month ago you saw it and immediately thought of it as the perfect Christmas gift for Brittany.

You wanted to give her something that shows you care about her. All of her. Even her faith. You think back to when she told you she doesn't have friends outside of the church anymore. You can't believe that anyone would stop being her friend over something as trivial as that. You know it's a big part of her life.

You turn your head away and groan. You don't know if you can give that to her now. You don't know if she'll even accept it.

After about an hour of sulking, you get up from your couch and put the gift box in your purse. You've decided to give it to Brittany tomorrow at the party. You hope she's there.


	7. Christmas

_**Chapter 7: Christmas**_

It's the day of the Christmas Eve party and you have no idea what to wear tonight. Naturally, your first instinct would be to call Brittany and ask but that obviously is out of the question. You decide to play it safe by choosing something that's not too dressed up and still conservative enough. You settle on an old red dress of yours, tight but not too tight, and short but not too short.

You also make sure to head to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients for guacamole. Mr. Liu told you not to bring anything but you know it's a potluck, so it would be rude of you not to. Once the guacamole is done and safely stowed in the refrigerator, you get a chance to sit down and take a breath.

Glancing at the clock, you see that it's still only 3:00 p.m. The party isn't for another three more hours. You grab your laptop off the coffee table and settle into the couch, intent on passing the time by mindlessly scrolling through social media.

You're bored after about an hour but just before you close your laptop, your scrolling lands on an update posted by some guy named Sam. You're only seeing it because Brittany's tagged in it. A photo captioned, ' _Finally convinced this one to go to the Zoo with me._ '

There was Brittany, smiling shyly. She looks happy in the photo and you notice that Sam, you presume, has his arm draped over her shoulders. He has big stupid dopey grin on his face and admittedly, your first thought is how much money he sets aside for his chapstick budget.

Either way it's clear to you that this was a date. Brittany went on a date and you're not sure if the heat you feel in your chest is because of jealousy or anger. Maybe a mixture of both. Maybe betrayal.

You inspect it further and note that this must've happened yesterday because that's when Sam posted it along with an entire album full of photos of zoo animals. You go through the whole album, searching for more photos of the blonde.

You find another photo of Brittany towards the end and smile to yourself before realizing you shouldn't be smiling at the fact that she looks this happy on a date with another person. But you can't help it when she looks that adorable in the middle of the gift shop smiling her signature smile, holding a stuffed lizard like it's the cutest thing in the world.

 _You're like a lizard, San. Always mean mugging everyone but really, you just need some warming up._

The memory of Brittany saying that to you floods your mind. She was teasing you because you called yourself 'cold-blooded' when talking about how the students view you.

Snapping your laptop shut, you stop yourself before you can start stalking this _Sam_ person's social media accounts. You're in no position to be jealous. Actually, you have no right to any reaction. Definitely, no right to blame Sam, whoever he is, for ruining lizards for you forever.

* * *

You get out of your car, guacamole and chips in hand, and make your way into the building. The staff party is in the school cafeteria, so it doesn't take you long until you're walking through the doors, taking in the sight of Christmas decorations everywhere. You greet a few people on your way to the food table and place your container and chips down near the rest of the snacks.

"You actually came!" Mrs. Miller yells from behind you and soon you're being pulled away and into a huddle of a few other teachers. "Was that guacamole I saw?" She asks and you nod your head.

"I made it earlier today. I hope you guys like it." You smile at them, happy to already be a part of a group. You were worried you'd be sitting by yourself the whole night. That's why you arrived so early, you figured it'd be easier to leave after staying an appropriate amount of time.

"And she cooks!" Mrs. Miller bellows, squeezing your shoulders. You laugh with the group and easily make conversation. For a while, you forget your troubles and you're grateful for that.

You make your rounds and eventually find your way to Sue.

"Santana." She greets you and you tilt your head in response. "I didn't think this was your kind of scene." She motions to the whole room. It's definitely overly decorated for your taste, but you think that's probably because someone got a little too excited.

"It's not." You shake your head, "I figured the other teachers needed to see the nicer side of me instead of what all the students tell them."

"To tell you the truth, I wish everyone was just as tough as you." She pats your back and you laugh with her. Music isn't anywhere close to being a core class but you made sure the students know they shouldn't expect an easy 'A' from you.

As a Principal, Sue Sylvester actually runs a tight ship. And from what you've observed so far since working here, all the teachers, even Brittany, hold the students to pretty high standards. Not in a cruel or unrealistic kind of way, but in a way that truly challenges them to grow. Everyone here has a level of compassion and understanding that's unparallel to anything you've ever experienced.

This small private school is everything your's wasn't.

You continue to make small talk with Sue until a few of the other teachers join you. The night is fun and filled with laughter and if you're being honest, you're actually glad you came. It makes you think you could still find a space to belong here even if things don't work out with-

"Brittany!" Sue waves toward the door from beside you and you instantly turn your head to look in the same direction. Brittany is near the door, shrugging off her jacket before placing it on a rack. When your eyes finally meet, she actually smiles at you. You almost don't register it because you're in a group of other people so really, she could just be smiling in your general direction.

But when she mouths a silent 'hi' while holding your stare, you finally smile in return before dropping your gaze shyly. You're hopeful that maybe she's ready to move past all this now. You discreetly, or try to discreetly, watch her as she drops off her dish at the food table before making her way toward your group.

Once the group greets her, she falls into place beside you. "Sorry I'm so late." She tells everyone and you look sideways at her. She offers you another smile and your hopes are definitely high now. Two smiles in just 5 minutes.

"I'm surprised you even came tonight. Doesn't Sam's family celebrate on Christmas Eve?" Sue looks at Brittany and you feel your heart drop to your feet. You shift uncomfortably, not bothering to stop the thought of Brittany already being considered 'part of the family' enough for her to celebrate with Sam's family. You look to Brittany, waiting for her response.

"What? How-" Brittany begins to ask but Sue waves her off.

"Your parents wouldn't shut up about it. They were very excited that you finally took Sam up on his offer." The older blonde explains. This quickly gets the other teachers' attention.

"Seriously?" Emma, the English teacher, speaks up, "Sam from the church? He's had the biggest crush on you since you were teenagers! It's about time, Brittany. I'm so happy for you two!" Emma excitedly exclaims, and you mentally add the bitch to your shitlist. You turn away from Brittany as you try your best to not look hurt from this conversation. You don't exactly have an excuse to be breaking down in front of everyone.

"So, tell us the details. What made you change your mind?" Mrs. Miller asks, and when Brittany doesn't answer, you hate yourself for giving in and looking at her. Like some sick urge to watch the knife twist.

But you want to know why. Why, she seemingly out of the blue, choose to go on a date with someone she had obviously already turned down in the past. It takes Brittany a second but when her eyes flicker to yours, you have your answer.

 _You_. You changed her mind.

That's all it took for you to lose it. Internally, of course. You can't handle being in here and being so close to Brittany. It's like you can't breathe anymore. Especially if she's going to start talking about her date with Sam. A date she only went on because of you. You need to leave before you start throwing things or crying. You're not sure which one yet but you don't want to find out.

"Restroom break." You quickly stutter out, excusing yourself and walking away as fast as you can. Once you make it past the restrooms and out the front doors, you finally take a breath of fresh air. It's only when the cold air hits you that you feel the wetness on your cheeks.

You feel like an idiot. Of course Brittany isn't into you. Of course she would naturally reach out and find the first available guy for her to assert her _straightness_ to you. You think about the fact that this is exactly how it happened last time. Next thing you know you'll be getting dirty looks and notes on your desk about how disgusting you are.

You get in your car and drive away. When you get home, you strip off the night and lay on your bed. You spend the night tossing and turning until you finally drift off to sleep. You somehow manage to get at least a few hours of sleep before the sun is rising and creeping its way onto your bed.

When you fully wake up, your mind wanders to the events of last night. While you were restlessly tossing and turning all night, you've come to terms with the idea that maybe Brittany just doesn't accept who you are.

Most of your Christmas Day is spent wondering what will happen now. Now that you know how Brittany feels and the fact that your whole life is basically in her hands, you can't help but worry. Will you need to leave and start over again? Will she tell the others about your _indiscretions_? Has she already?

You pace around the house, making mental note of all the things you'll need to pack and how quickly you can do so. You're not really sure how fast or how far you'll need to leave. It all would depend on how badly things go down.

By the time dinner nears, you've worked yourself up into a frenzy. The sad thing is, you know you're overreacting. You know you're only thinking worst-case scenario. There's really no use in thinking best-case scenario because that obviously already crashed and burned.

You decide to take a bath to calm yourself down. Which inadvertently turned out to be a horrible idea because it left you basically marinating in your own frantic thoughts. With no escape from worrying, your brain began coming up with more thoughts of Brittany's impending betrayal.

When it became too much, you left the tub and now find yourself looking through your dresser for a change of clothes. Your eyes land on Brittany's pajamas and you sigh. You grab it out and place it on your bed. Allowing yourself to continue torturing your heart, you put on her shorts and t-shirt, sighing when you look at yourself in the mirror.

You're such a bitch to yourself. You deserve this heartache.

Not having eaten all day, you force yourself to walk into the kitchen in hopes of finding something simple that requires little to no effort. But as you're rummaging through the refrigerator, your doorbell rings. You stand up straight and look at the time on the oven.

 _7:04 p.m._ blinks back at you.

You try to think if you've subconsciously ordered delivery while under the influence of your earlier frenzy. You're pretty sure you didn't because most places aren't even open on Christmas Day so you must've just imagined it, but then you hear the soft knock that follows. You step out from the kitchen and slowly make your way to the door, looking through the peephole.

It's Brittany.

You curse silently at yourself for wearing her pajamas but it's too late to change now so you open the door slowly.

"Hey," She smiles softly at you and you force a smile in return. Her eyes glance down at your outfit and you see her smile widen. "Nice jammies." She says, clearly amused, and you try to look indifferent, hoping to conceal your embarrassment. It's only when she shifts in place that you notice how cold it is outside. Opening the door further, you allow her to step inside to stay warm.

"Sorry, it's a mess. I wasn't expecting anyone." You mumble, and she hands you a plastic food container. You recognize it immediately as your own, mostly because it has your last name written on the bottom of it and you only now realize that you forgot your guacamole last night when you left unexpectedly early.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your Christmas. I just wanted to return this to you. It was cleaned out by the time the party ended. Everyone loved it." She tells you and you only nod. "You left early. I didn't even get a chance to talk to you." Cautiously, you look at her face, trying to read her expression. She wanted to talk to you. That can't be good.

Turning away to avoid her eyes, you catch sight of your purse on the table next to you. Now might be your only chance. You reach inside and pull out the small box, handing it to her. Her eyes widen at your gesture, realizing what it is.

You watch as she inspects the giftbox in her hands before looking back to you. "Santana, you didn't have to..."

You shrug. You don't trust your voice because if this is your last real interaction with Brittany, you don't want to ruin it by accidently confessing more of your feelings.

"Thank you." Brittany's eyes search yours again and when you don't say anything, she looks down, almost dejectedly. "So I guess I'll just be on my way, then." As she turns and reaches for the door, you voice stops her.

"Wait, Britt." You squeeze your eyes shut at your outburst but it's too late to turn back now. Your mind is reeling. "Do I need to start looking for a new job?"

"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Santana, why would you think that?"

Your earlier frenzy hits you like a truck and you're scared all over again of what she's capable of doing with the knowledge of your past. "Look, I really don't want this to blow up in my face again. I don't think I can handle that a second time. If I've made you feel uncomfortable, just _tell me_. I'll understand, okay? I'll stop. I won't come near you. I swear to god, Brittany, I won't even look at you if that's what you want."

You're rambling, taking it too far and you know it. You sound like an idiot, the desperation dripping from your voice irritates you. Trying to conceal it, you turn away and walk further into your house but she follows you. You place the container down and turn back to her, waiting for her response, but not daring to look her in the eyes.

"You want me to be honest?" She asks, ducking her head to catch your eyes. When you finally look at her she takes a deep breath. "When you told me what happened to you I didn't know what to think. I mean, we were in the middle of _chapel_. And on top of that to find out you're... _you know_ , I think I-"

You force your eyes away causing her to stop but she ducks her head again to meet you. She wants you to look at her. You reluctantly give in.

"What I'm trying to say is, I went on a date." She states and you scoff. That was _not_ what you wanted to hear but she continues. "I went on a date with a man that is probably the perfect match for me."

You try not to look hurt at what she's saying but you won't be able to hold it together for long. Not if she's going to continue talking about this stupid date.

"Santana, all I could think about the entire time was _you_." Her voice is soft and her confession stuns you. You don't want to get your hopes up but you know she can see it in your eyes. A glimmer of hope. "It drove me insane. I couldn't stop thinking about the way you make me feel every time you look at me. Even right now, I can feel it."

You take a shaky breath because you can't believe what your hearing. Brittany steps closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, calming the voices in your head. With her thumb caressing you softly, you lean your head into her palm. Her touch is magnetic.

"He kissed me." She says, making you frown but her thumb continues her motions, soothing you. "I didn't feel anything, Santana." She takes another step forward and you step back, needing the distance to keep you at least a little sane. "I stayed up the whole night wondering if it would've been better... _with feelings_." Her eyes drop to your lips and your heart leaps from of your chest.

"Brittany, I don't kn-"

" _Please_ , Santana. I need to know." She pleads and when she steps forward again, your back hits the wall. She's so close now and you watch as she licks her lips, causing you to do the same. "Tell me to stop and I will."

You don't respond. You don't dare make a noise because Brittany's eyes close and she leans in. You close your eyes just as her lips make contact. It takes you a second but eventually you find the strength to move your lips with hers.

Brittany's lips are soft, and she moves so carefully that you reason it's because she probably thinks she might break you. But she's not, right now she's doing the exact opposite of break you. You feel her hand move from your cheek to the back of your neck and you hum in response, spurring her on to deepen the kiss. You allow your hands to finally move and you place them at her hips, holding on to her to keep you in place. To keep you from falling.

It's everything a first kiss should be.

When Brittany pulls away she's breathless. She rests her forehead against yours and her eyes open slowly. You can't even think. It's like you're surrounded by stars and you think might actually see the entire universe in Brittany's eyes. _Brittany_. Brittany, who is pressed up against your body, _against a wall_. You can't believe what just happened, and on Christmas no less.

"Merry Christmas." You say lamely, letting out a nervous laugh and making her giggle in return. She leans in and places another tender kiss to your lips.

"Merry Christmas, Santana."


	8. Aftermath

_**Chapter 8: Aftermath**_

"Merry Christmas, Santana." You whisper onto her lips. You feel high, like you've finally had a taste of what you've been craving for and now you want more.

You were right, after all. With feelings, it's _so_ much better.

"It seems like we have a few things to talk about." Santana's fingers dance across your forehead, moving some of your blonde hair from your face. Her hand stops at your cheeks, finding purchase there.

You nod in response and reluctantly remove yourself from her body, no longer pinning her to the wall. You don't know what to do now so you just stand there and wait for her to make the next move. You hadn't really prepared yourself for this.

You were fidgety and nervous all day because you had thought Santana was mad at you. It's why you just had to see her today, even if that meant leaving your parents home early. Because last night, the way she looked at you once the topic of your date with Sam came up, it did something to you. It ignited something in you. And you knew it was stupid to go on that date. It was childish and _experimental_ , and not at all fair to either Santana or Sam.

"Sorry, I just need a minute to change gears." Santana breaks you from your thoughts and you watch as she moves to the couch, her hand rubbing at the back of her neck. You follow her silently and she continues, "I wasn't really expecting that to happen."

"Me too. I was honestly just planning on bringing your container back." You chuckle softly, "But when you told me you were thinking of leaving..." Your heartbeat quickens and you feel your cheeks grow hot.

Moving your hand up to your lips, you make sure they're still there. You realize it's a silly thought because _of course_ they're still there, but for some reason they're still tingling.

You hope you didn't cross a line. You hope you weren't just imagining everything between the two of you. _But what if you did though?_ You feel nervous all of a sudden as you begin to doubt yourself. Oh god, what if you've become _that person_ who thinks someone is automatically into you now just because you've found out they're gay?

Santana seems to notice you're internal struggle because she's looking curiously at you. It doesn't exactly help that she's not saying anything. You wish you could just read her mind right now.

"Britt," Santana finally speaks up, her eyes watching you, "You're thinking about it too much."

Oh god, she knows. "Sorry." You mumble. It hasn't really hit you until now that you've just all but confessed your feelings for her, without even knowing for sure what that means, or if she even felt the same. "This is so embarrassing."

"No, it's not." She smiles softly at you and your chest does that flip thing that it always does when she looks at you like this. You can't believe you just kissed her like that. And now, with the way she's looking at you and the way she kissed you back, was that her way of being nice? She didn't tell you to stop so that's a good sign, right? Or is this a lesbian thing? Do all lesbians just let their best friends kiss them when they go all _gay panic_ on them?

"I don't really know what happens now. I'm not even sure what this means." You admit honestly. You don't want to assume anything. Santana nods like she's thinking it over too.

"It's really up to you, Britt." She says, cautiously. "This is a pretty big revelation for you. You don't have to figure it all out right now."

You nod. She's being careful. She's trying to not scare you away and honestly, you're grateful for that. Sure, you may have feelings for her but that doesn't mean you're in any way ready to talk about that _right now_. You've only now just come to the realization that you might not exactly be straight.

"You're being so kind." You look at her, "Even though I was so mean to you." You think about how you acted towards her. Cold and distant. She must've thought you hated her if she was scared enough to think she had to move.

"You were. But I'm also kind of dramatic." She smiles a little, lightening the mood, "I just really missed my best friend."

 _Best friend._ It's not hard to miss her choice of words. "Me too." You nod slowly. She holds your eyes and you duck them shyly. "So, I know I just… _you know_ ," _kissed you_ , "but could we maybe not talk about that right this second? I think I still need some time to figure things out. Again, I really wasn't planning to do any of that, it just sort of happened..."

When you look back at her, her expression is still just as soft and she nods, "Of course, Britt. Take as much time as you need."

You sit in silence with Santana until you're eventually yawning consecutively. Each time you try to fight it because it's nice to just be sitting there beside her but your body is telling you that you need to sleep soon. Santana notices and encourages you to start heading home before you're too tired to drive.

You kind of don't want to though because the way she said it implies that if you don't leave soon, she won't let you, due to your sleepy state. Your mind wanders to the idea of waking up in Santana's home. Would you sleep on her couch? Her bed?

You shake those thoughts from your mind because she's your best friend. She said so herself.

Eventually though, she leads the way as you both move towards her front door. She opens it for you slowly and now your nervous again because you don't know what's appropriate anymore. Santana doesn't let your mind wander long, making the decision for you as she steps forward, pulling you in for a hug.

"Text me when you get home safe." She mumbles into your hair and you resist the urge to turn your head into the crook of her neck. Like you've done so many times before.

You just hold her there and bid her a good night.

Once you're safely in your car, you exhale in relief. You feel different. Like your entire life is changing and you don't really know what to do with yourself.

You think of Santana the entire drive home. You think of her lips and her smile. And her smell. That _fresh out of the bath_ Santana smell, and how it made you feel dizzy. So dizzy. Then you think of your clothes on her body and you blush because it makes you think that maybe she really does have feelings for you.

You shake your head. _No_. You need to figure out your own mess first. It wouldn't be fair to pull her into something if you don't even know what to make of your own feelings. You need to figure yourself out before even entertaining the thought of Santana maybe seeing you as something more than a friend. You need to be careful.

* * *

The following few days pass by in a blur.

You groan as you sit up in bed, the morning sun slowly peeking in. You check your phone and see a missed call from Sam. You roll your eyes because for the past few days, he's called you more times than you'd care for - which, if you're being completely honest, is probably any number greater than zero. You wish he would just get the hint and stop but you know shutting him out isn't the right way to handle this. You may not be _straight_ anymore but that doesn't mean you're suddenly a _monster_.

Plus it's Sunday morning now, meaning you'll have to go to church and see him. And your parents. And everyone else who has questions about your date. Eventually, you build up enough strength to get ready.

It's still early by the time you're walking through the Church doors and you're immediately greeted by a few of the volunteers. You make your way into the auditorium and sigh when you see him. _Sam_. He's already on the stage, just like he is every Sunday, talking with your father.

"Brittany!" Your father bellows from the stage. You smile at him as you make your way down the aisle and towards the front.

"Morning, dad." You greet at your father, purposefully not making eye contact with Sam. You know he's looking at you but you don't want to encourage him any further.

"Good morning, Britt." Sam speaks up and you're forced to look at him in order to not seem rude. You offer him a small smile and that's all.

You don't really know why but after your date with him, you have this newfound sense of clarity now. You think it's because you had always thought of his little crush on you as kind of cute, but now that you're learning how you really feel, it just makes everything kind of uncomfortable.

You can't help but think of Santana and how soft she was toward you. How patient she's being. Since you last saw her, she's texted you only a handle of times, making you glad that you no longer have to worry if things are still weird between the two of you.

Each text was something random, nothing to do with what happened on Christmas night, like she knew you sometimes just needed a distraction from your thoughts.

 _The coffee shop on 9th has aiight blueberry muffins._

 _A group of frogs is called an army._

 _I just met a dog named Harry. We're friends now._

Each random message turned into string of messages about whatever it was that prompted her to send you something so out of the blue. Just thinking about her and the way she just gets you makes your chest do that thing again.

Looking at Sam still smiling at you, it honestly just makes you feel like you're a horrible person. You know you can't go on knowing he has hope for something more so you motion for him to follow you and he does, finding a spot in the back of the auditorium that's mostly private.

You feel bad because you can feel how hopeful he is in this moment. It's awkward but you do your very best to let him down easily. The way his face falls as you tell him it'll never happen again, makes you kind of hate yourself for leading him on and asking him out on a whim.

He doesn't say much. He doesn't even ask for a reason. When you tell him that you hope he'll still be your friend, it surprises you that he seems shocked at that.

He's sincere when he tells you that he's sad but there's no hard feelings. That he's just glad to have been able to take you out at least once and you tell him that you genuinely had fun. It's not a lie. Sam's a really great guy and you know he'll have no problem finding someone who will truly appreciate his bad impressions and nerdy charm. He's just not what you're looking for.

Once he leaves to walk back to the stage, you make your way to the side section of the the church and greet a few of the Sunday School teachers. You move to the registration desk and prepare for the onslaught of parents coming in to drop off their children.

Sunday School can be great at times, but mostly it's just glorified babysitting. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you sigh, thinking it's Sam again, but smile shyly when you see that it's not.

 _San:_ _A banana contains 75% water._

Giggling at Santana's message, you wonder why she's up so early on a Sunday morning. You know she's not a morning person, and you're pretty sure 7:00 a.m is considered too early, especially on a weekend. So why is it that she's up so early and how did she come to learn this interesting - and unnecessary - new fact.

 _Britt: Explain._

 _San: I was watching a documentary._

 _Britt: At 7am on a Sunday morning?_

 _San: No, silly. I watched it last night. But it was too late so I didn't want to wake you._

 _Britt: So you woke up early just to tell me?_

 _San: Mm. I set an alarm and everything._

You can't help but smile widely now. How does she manage to do this to you so easily?

"Who's that?" A voice brings you back to reality and you look to your left to find your mother standing there.

"Huh? Oh-" You stutter, "Just a friend." Your mother narrows her eyes playfully at you before taking a seat beside you.

" _Just a_ _friend_ , huh? Would this friend's name happen to be _Sam_?" She wiggles her eyebrows, making you roll your eyes. At your reaction she perks up, "Oh? It's _not_ Sam?"

"Mom," You shake your head, "Sam isn't going to happen. I told him today that it's not going to work out. I'm just texting a friend from work."

You're mother eyes the side of your face for a second before shrugging, "Okay, so who's this friend from work that's got you smiling all doe-eyed?" She asks and you instantly feel like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. You clear your throat in an attempt to sound normal.

"Her name is Santana. And I'm not smiling all doe-eyed. She just texted me a joke is all." You turn away and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You've never had to lie like this before. Especially to your own mother.

"Oh." Your mother deflates, "Brittany, why didn't you start with that, then? You got me all excited for nothing."

You breathe out in relief once your mother changes the subject to what your father's message is about today. When the families begin filing in one after another, your mother greets the parents and you make sure to greet the children.

It's an easy dance that you and your mother have perfected a long time ago. The wife and daughter of the head pastor, you both have these roles that you're expected to take on. And what better roles than to bring up young minds in the way of the church?

You're the picture-perfect Christian family. All that's missing is your picture-perfect Christian husband and eventually a picture-perfect Christian child to tie it all together.

But then there's _Santana_. Santana, _a woman_ , who after you first laid eyes on, you wanted nothing more than to know everything about her. It's unexplainable. The way she held herself, there was like a certain level of _coolness_ that surrounded her that made you feel like you were lucky she even wanted to spend time with you.

Looking back on it now, how could you have been so blind? But then again, maybe you weren't. She made your chest tighten even when she would just glance at you from across the room. And although you may not have understood it completely then, you must've known what you were doing. The way you made it your mission to chase after that feeling was evidence enough.

You couldn't wait to see the way she would always visibly soften the first time she sees you every day. A special adjustment, just for you. During every chapel, you couldn't wait to learn more. You'd bake her a million _breakfast cupcakes_ just to see her smile every time. You'd write her a million little notes until her walls were filled with them.

 _They keep me sane._

They way she said that so casually, like it wasn't easily the best compliment you've ever received in your life. Okay, maybe that's being a bit dramatic but it came from Santana so automatically it's the best.

You can't help but think that since she's obviously more experienced than you in the ways of lady liking, she had to have known what you were feeling. The past few months have been shameless flirting, mostly on your part and now you know why Santana would always flush so easily.

She always seemed so analytical in her movements around you. So calculated, like she didn't want to overstep. You realize that you were the one initiated a lot of your contact.

But then there were also times where she would let herself slip, and relax a little. Those are the best times.

You would catch her, sometimes, humming the same song when she didn't even realize she was doing it. That song, your favorite song, the one that played softly in the back of your mind the first day you met, haunts you in the most delicious way now. She's attached herself to it and every time you hear it come from her lips, you feel like you could fly.

You think about that for a second and smile to yourself. If that thought alone doesn't confirm it then you're clearly still in denial. But you're not anymore, and you know it now.

 _You're falling for her_. It's so glaringly obvious now.

You look around at your surroundings and laugh at the irony. Here, in your family's church, you've discovered a piece of yourself. A piece that you fear they would never fully accept.

For so long, your existence has always been about your perfect life as the perfect daughter to your perfect parents.

And you're about to throw a wrench into everything.


	9. Impression

_**Chapter 9: Impression**_

 _I miss you._

Your finger hovers hesitantly over the send button. You think it's probably late enough in the morning that Santana would be up already. You want to see her - no, you _need_ to see her - but you also don't want to come on too strong. Hastily, you delete the message and type out a different one before pressing send.

 _Britt: Hey._

You take a deep breath. Much better. Keeping it cool. Your phone buzzes not even 30 seconds after.

 _San: Hey._

You stare at her message and smile. You feel like a little kid, smiling at something so simple.

 _Britt: So I wanted to ask you something…_

 _San: Go for it._

 _Britt: My parents always put together this New Year's Eve thing at their house. A bunch of people come over._

 _San: That sounds pretty cool._

You wait for her to send a follow up message but after a minute passes and nothing else comes through you sigh. She's going to make you ask, isn't she.

 _Britt: So?_

 _San: So what?_

 _Britt: San…_

 _San: Haha. Was there a question in there somewhere?_

 _Britt: Would you like to come to my parents house tomorrow tonight?_

Oh god. Too forward. You quickly type out another message.

 _Britt: If you don't have any better plans, of course._

 _San: I'd love to, Britt._

 _Britt: Score!_

Smiling like an idiot, you send her the details. It's been almost a week since you've last seen her and you're excited to show her a little more of your life. She'll to meet your parents tomorrow, which honestly scares you but at the same time, you just want to see her.

You _need_ to see her.

You can't wait until you're back in school next week, where you can fall back into your routine with her. You need more interactions if you're going to start analyzing your relationship for what it is. She obviously already knows how you feel, but then again, you did tell her you needed time to think about it.

And she's been so good about that. So good that it makes your heart feel like it could scale tall buildings and leap across rooftops. You wonder if she's being this patient because she knows what this feels like and the thought of her being so careful with you while you find yourself makes you fall even further.

Your heart jumps again and you rollover in your bed. Your thoughts are too much right now and it's driving you insane. You decide that you need to get out of the house before you go crazy and the mall sounds like a good enough distraction.

You push yourself off the bed and get ready to go out. You know it's better to go closer to when the stores open since most times the shopping center becomes packed with teenagers once it hits afternoon time. Especially on the last week of winter break.

It's not long before you're stepping inside the mall and easily making your way to your usual shops. Some say window shopping can be therapeutic, but you like to argue that _shopping_ shopping is even more so. You're not crazy though, you make sure to only purchase the necessities.

And new clothes are always considered necessities.

You're walking through a department store when you see Santana out of the corner of your eye. Her back is to you as she rummages through a rack of clothes while she's talking on her cellphone. Your body quickly makes the decision to spin on your heels and duck behind a nearby column. Is it wrong of you to want to listen to her private conversation?

"I don't know what to tell you, babe." You hear Santana say and your heart drops. _Babe._ You hold your breath as you continue to listen. "Your eyebrow of a husband is a piece of shit and you need to start standing up for yourself."

 _Oh, thank god._

"Kurt, listen to me," She sighs as she moves on to the next rack, "We both know the only reason you're calling me is because you know I'll tell it to you straight. If you expected to be told what you wanted to hear, you would've called Berry, Queen of _non-helpful_ advice."

It kind of shocks you to see her like this. You realize that you actually don't know much about what her life was like before meeting you. You only know she's from Ohio and that she's moved around a few times since graduating high school. You've never asked her about friends. You wonder if this Kurt person is an old friend. Or even… _Berry_ , was it? What kind of name is Berry?

"Don't change the subject." Santana scoffs moving on to yet another rack. You use the opening to make the move from behind the column and find a rack for yourself to hide behind instead. "You don't need to hear about my love life, you creep. You're only bringing it up because you want to rub it in my face that I've somehow managed to get myself in this mess of a situation again."

You're ears perk up to that and you suddenly feel like you really shouldn't be listening.

"Don't ' _Santana Lopez_ ' me." She says and you can hear the irritation in her voice, "And no, I haven't talked to her about it yet, okay? To be honest, I'm not entirely sure if I'm ready to."

Is she talking about you?

"Because _she_ kissed _me_. She kissed me and now I really don't know what to do with myself."

At that, you stumble on your footing and use the rack to keep you upright. It jostles, sending the sign on top tumbling over. You stay there, crouched over, and you close your eyes in hopes that she hadn't heard your mistep.

"Brittany?" You feel Santana's presence beside you and your eyes open in horror. As you stand up straight, you watch as she pulls her phone from her ear and you can hear the faint noises of someone talking excitedly on the other side. "Kurt, I'm gonna have to call you later." She mumbles quickly before hanging up.

You clear your throat. "Hi."

"Are you okay?" She looks at you and then to the floor. "Did you trip on something?"

 _Yeah, your heart._ You shake your head. "Just clumsy."

Her eyebrow arches up as she thinks about your explanation before her lips pull into a small smile. She must sense your nerves.

"Shopping?" She eyes the multiple shopping bags in your hands and you nod. She nods in response to your nod and you feel awkward again. You didn't realize this would be so hard for you. How do normal people interact with their best friend after coming to the realization that they have feelings for them?

"Sorry," You finally speak again, "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I was on my way to my car when I saw you."

"No, it's okay. I was just looking for something to wear for tomorrow."

You smile at that, shaking your head, "You don't have to, it's just my parent's house. Super casual."

She chuckles, "I know. I just want to make a good first impression."

You watch as her eyes widen in shock at her own words and she suddenly turns away to look through the nearby rack, a failed attempt to hide her blush. She wants to make a good first impression and she's shopping for a new outfit, just for that purpose.

You don't want to make her feel any more embarrassed so you let it slide and change the subject. "Is Kurt an old friend?"

She turns to you slightly and narrows her eyes, like she's unsure of where your line of questioning is heading. "Old college roommate from New York." It's all she offers as an explanation and you hum in response before she fully turns to you, clearly nervous. "How much of that did you hear?"

Your face scrunches up, "You have a friend named... _Berry_?" You tilt your head innocently and her eyes flicker like she knows now that you've heard more of her conversation than she had thought. Again, you don't want to push it so you keep it light. "Who in their right mind would name their child _Berry_?"

That makes her laugh heartily, "She's also an old college roommate."

You nod. You want to ask more because you didn't know she went to college in New York but you're not sure if you're back at that stage yet. She doesn't turn away though and continues to look at you with curious eyes, like she wants to say something too but she's also unsure.

"So," you draw out, "how was your weekend?"

She frowns at your words and you watch as her eyes quickly glance around before softly asking, "Are we only back to small talk, now?"

Her question surprises you. The way she asked it surprises you even more, quiet and under her breath. She's being careful. For you. She's making sure in case you're uncomfortable.

It's a valid question, though. Over text it's like you're best friends still, but you didn't think in-person interactions were going to be so different. You thought it would be easy to fall back into your old roles but right now all you can think of is the fact that the last time you saw her was when you kissed her.

"Y-you make me nervous." You confess, blushing. It's true, you can't seem to think straight when she's near you now. You can't help but feel like a little girl with a crush.

At your words, her eyes soften, a small smile on her lips. You shift in place and your shopping bags jostle around.

She steps forward and offers her hand out to you. When you look at her curiously, she explains, "Let me help you."

It's such a simple gesture and you're grateful. Mostly for her not prodding further. You hand her a few bags and fall into step with her, walking side by side down the aisle of the department store.

You lead Santana outside to your car and she helps you put your bags into your trunk. When she's done she turns to you expectantly. You stand there, trying to read her expression.

There's so much you want to say to her. So much you want to ask. But you don't know where to start. It's a strange feeling, knowing that the roles have reversed somehow.

Because it was so easy to talk to her before all of this. To be the one that could make her blush and stumble on her words. You used to relish in that power because you had told yourself it was just innocent.

But now, knowing how you feel and that it actually wasn't that innocent, you don't know how to do all of that again. Especially since you're the one that kissed her. You can't believe you kissed her.

 _You can't stop thinking about kissing her._

Santana scuffs her shoe against the gravel of the parking lot and you're snapped from your thoughts.

"Sorry. Thank you." You finally tell her.

"You're welcome." She says with a chuckle. She turns to walk away but before she does, her smile lingers and her eyes turn soft. "See you tomorrow, Britt."

You stand there watching as she walks back towards the mall. Your body feels warm and you're not sure if it's from the sun above you or from the way Santana turns around just barely, catching your eyes again before ducking her head and disappearing behind sliding doors.

Seeing as it's winter and 40 degrees out, you're pretty sure it's the latter.

It takes you a second before your mind finally tells your body to move and once you're settled in your car, ready to drive off, your phone buzzes on the middle console.

 _San: Just so you know, Britt. You make me nervous too._

* * *

The next day you head to your parent's house to help cook and clean. The set up is always the same every New Year's Eve so it doesn't take long before you're all in the kitchen, cooking and talking.

"So how's things with Sam?" Your father says over his shoulder as he continues to cook at the stove. You roll your eyes as you stir the pie filling in the bowl in front of you.

"That's already over, Pierce." Your mother shakes her head from the other side of the kitchen island as she mixes a different batch of contents in another bowl.

"What? When did that happen?" He turns around and looks at you with frown. "It only just started…"

"There just wasn't any chemistry, dad."

"Well, why didn't anyone tell me? I'm sorry, baby girl. Thank goodness I forgot to invite his family tonight."

"It would've been fine if you did." You laugh, "He's still a friend."

You kind of feel bad because you know your dad really likes Sam since he always helps him on Sunday mornings. You hope that doesn't stop now that Sam knows nothing will happen between the two of you. It's silent for a while until your phone buzzes on the counter next to you and you use your pinky to carefully unlock it without it getting dirty. You smile when you see Santana's message and let go of the spatula you're holding to wipe your hands on a kitchen towel.

 _San: Do your parents drink wine?_

 _Britt: You don't have to bring anything, Santana._

You chuckle softly to yourself because you already know she's not going to listen to you.

 _San: So is that a yes? Or no? Should I bring a dessert instead?_

See.

"Who's that?" Your mom whispers from across the counter and your head snaps up.

"Oh- um. Santana." You answer awkwardly, "I told you about her on Sunday, remember? From the school. She teaches music. Well, more like she teaches piano, but yeah. You get the picture." You realize you're rambling so you turn back to your pie filling and avoid your mother's prying eyes.

"I know who she is, Brittany. It's part of our job to know who all the teachers are at the school." She laughs lightly, but her eyes still looking at you curiously, "I guess I just didn't realize you were this close with her. Did you invite her tonight?"

You nod, "She wants to know if she should bring wine or dessert." Knowing your parents, they're going to take full advantage of Santana's kindness.

"I think we have enough of both." Your dad laughs, looking over at the messy kitchen island. "But if she wants to be helpful..."

"Dad, no." You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs again.

"No manual labor." He smiles, "Promise."

You roll your eyes, grabbing your phone to text Santana.

 _Britt: I hope you're already ready._

 _San: ?_

 _Britt: My parents are requesting your assistance. Right now._

 _San: Umm…_

She's freaking out, you're sure of it. You laugh to yourself again because there's no way she's going to say no. Especially if she's so worried about making a good impression.

 _San: I don't really have a choice, do I?_

 _Britt: Nope. Hope you're happy. You did this to yourself._

 _San: Damn it._

 _Britt: See you soon!_


	10. Countdown

_**Chapter 10: Countdown**_

When Santana rings the doorbell of your childhood home you rush to the front door before one of your parents even attempt to move from their spot.

Letting her in, you take in her outfit as she shrugs off her coat. She's in a cozy sweater and ripped jeans. The entire picture of her, complete with a slightly red nose from outside cold, is cute in a very wintery vibe kind of way and you like it. You wonder if she really did buy a new outfit or if this was already in her closet. You glance down and notice in her hand a bottle of wine. When you look pointedly at her she smiles bashfully. She's too much.

"If they dont drink wine, I can put it back in my car." She offers, shrugging like it's no big deal.

"Oh, we drink wine!" Your father yells from the kitchen, making the both of you laugh.

"I'd like to take this time to apologize beforehand. I'm not sure yet what they have instore for you."

"Just glad to be here, Britt." She smiles back with dimples that make you blush. You turn away quickly, leading her through the living room and towards the kitchen.

Both of your parents are already standing next to each other in front of the kitchen island waiting for the both of you to walk up.

You watch as Santana smiles politely but when she fully sees them, she subtly glances to you with an arched eyebrow. You knew it was coming but everytime someone new notices it, you can't help but feel a little out of place. You'll have to explain it to her later.

"You must be Santana, _the music teacher that teaches piano at the school_." You mother's eyes flicker to yours playfully and you cringe at her words. Santana stretches out her hand to greet her but your mother only chuckles, opening her arms before pulling Santana in for a hug. "We hug in this family, hun."

You watch with adoration when your father teases Santana for still bringing wine, causing her to blush deeply.

"Brittany doesn't usually invite people to these things. It's usually just our friends." Your mother tells her and Santana's eyes find yours.

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"Oh, no. Not at all." Your father shakes his head. "Britt's usually bored most of the time anyways. I'm glad you'll be keeping her company."

Conversation takes over easily from there. You help your mother instruct Santana on how to roll out pie crusts and as soon as she gets the hang of it, your parents hit her with a barrage of questions. You almost step in to stop them but Santana handles them like a pro.

Although secretly, you kind of love it because even though she's your best friend, you've never actually talked about a lot of these things. And as irritatingly nosey as your parents are, you're a little grateful that you can learn more about Santana through them.

When your father asks where she's from all she says is Ohio. She's not short about it, but she never gives more than the very basics. She tells them that she found her love for music through her high school's music club and that's what lead her to move to New York when she graduated.

Santana talks about her time in New York City like it was the best time of her life. She talks excitedly about the shows she's seen, the food she's eaten, and the people she's met. It makes you smile as you picture her there, happy and proud. It must've taken a lot for her to move from there.

When they ask about her love life, she's careful. She's always so careful. She tells them that she's not looking for anything right now and expertly guides the conversation to other things like her interests in books and music.

The topic of church or faith doesn't come up like you expected it to. Probably because your parents know that Santana works at the school with you so they most likely already assume her beliefs.

Either way though, you'd venture that Santana would be able to hold her own if it were to come up. Since you've known her, all she's said about it was that she grew up in a religious household, but something tells you that it must've been more than that. She must've had an actual connection to her faith.

Because as many times as you've seen her try to avoid the subject, you can tell that she was -at least for a good part of her life- quite religious. You don't know how to explain it since it's not obvious, and very well hidden, but after few little things here and there, you just _know._

You used to secretly wonder why she was so guarded about it but now that you know what really happened to her, it's heartbreaking.

"So Santana, how'd you land in Indy?" Your mother suddenly asks her, bringing you back from your thoughts.

"Well, someone told me once that Indianapolis was a big city with a small town vibe." Santana answers with a shrug, "New York was fun and all, but after a while I kind of needed to slow down."

"Your parent's must miss you. You didn't want to move back home?" Your father asks innocently and you watch carefully as Santana continues on with her rolling. At Santana's silence, your mother stops what she's doing to look at her curiously, waiting for her answer.

You almost step in but Santana sees you flinch and her eyes find yours, telling you silently through a soft smile that she's okay. She takes a steadying breath before smiling politely and just shakes her head as an answer.

Thankfully, your father takes the hint. He may be a little clueless sometimes, but at least he can recognize it when he's reached a touchy subject. "How'd you end up at GCA? If you didn't move for a job then you must've had some sort of a plan."

You watch as Santana pauses again and you think this might be another thing you've yet to learn. For someone who went through everything she did, you had never thought about why she would apply for a job at a school like yours.

But Santana shrugs easily, "I had this whole idea of opening up a teaching studio here. Then I came across the school's job posting online and I don't know… I thought maybe if I could help another kid find their passion in music too, I'd have done my part in this world."

Even though you know there's more to it than that, her answer makes your heart soar. For the first few months of teaching, she had put on this big front about how much she's ' _not a kid person_ ', but you know better by now. She absolutely loves kids. She may act like she's always annoyed around them - though many times she actually is - but really, she has big soft spot when it comes to children. _Like a marshmallow_.

"That's really admirable, Santana." You father smiles at her. "And I know they're very happy to have you. Sue raves to me all the time about how much of a godsend you are and trust me, she's a hard one to impress."

Both you and Santana laugh at that because you know it's true and you're glad that your father has lightened the mood.

Your mother is still watching Santana curiously and you think it's because she's a new friend. A friend that's not from the church. One that you failed to mention you've become close with and she's worried. She knows all too well why you hardly have any friends to begin with. Not everyone understands you the way your parent's do.

"Okay, now this is the most important question." Your father voice turns stern as he turns his attention fully to Santana.

"Oh no." You mutter under your breath and Santana stops what she's doing to look at you. You smile at her encouragingly because you know your father too well. You were wondering how long it was going to take for him to ask. Santana looks at him nervously and you stifle a laugh.

"Indiana or Purdue?" He narrows his eyes at her and she shifts under his stare.

She looks between the three of you and you all stare at her expectantly. You want to help her, and you probably should have prepared her for this, but you know she's on her own now. You just hope she says the right answer.

"Umm," Santana laughs nervously, "I-I don't really watch football…"

You can't help the huge smile that grows on your face and you choke out a small laugh. Santana looks at you with such an innocent and terrified expression that it makes you laugh again, this time harder. Your dad laughs with you and Santana joins in awkwardly.

"I like her." He tells you, "She's funny."

You smile proudly at him and he goes back to his cooking. Leaning over the counter, your mother whispers to Santana.

"Basketball, hun. He was asking about _basketball_." She tells her and you notice the faint blush creep its way onto Santana's cheeks.

* * *

At one point, after finishing the fifth pie, Santana asks how many pies your family plans on making.

"Are you guys feeding the entire State of Indiana with these?" Santana asks with wide eyes when she opens the large refrigerator revealing, surprise, _more pies_.

"We give them out to the guests to take home to their families. It's kind of our New Year's tradition." You explain with a laugh as you watch her inspect the truly unreasonable amount of pies that have taken over the refrigerator shelves.

"So baking runs in the family, I see." Santana says, finally closing the door and turning to you with a smile.

It makes you blush and when you turn back to your mother she's already looking questioningly at you.

"I made her muffins a few times." You shrug, not offering her any more of an explanation in hopes of changing the subject but you already know what she's thinking. She knows you don't bake for just anyone. Honestly, the only time you find yourself baking is when you're with your mother because that way you're supervised.

You wouldn't call yourself incompetent. It's just that you don't like following instructions and you tend to get distracted easily. That's why you can't cook alone with any music playing. Your house would literally burn down. Also baking requires exact measurements and as amazing as you are at math and calculations, you can never seem to get your numbers right when it comes to baking.

But for Santana, you somehow managed to _make_ an entirely new recipe for blueberry muffins. Just for her. A recipe that you would even say rivals your mother's recipe for banana-nut muffins.

Once the pies are done, your father asks for Santana's opinion on the living room set up and you scold him, reminding him that he promised no manual labor.

Your mother, thankfully, has loosened up to Santana, too. All it took was a very heated conversation about the Indy 500 and how much they both hate auto racing. You make a mental note to not tell her about your brief stint in the motocross scene.

Once people start arriving you take on the role of host, greeting your parents' friends and making sure they're situated. Occasionally, you'll glance at Santana and watch as she makes easy conversation with everyone that approaches her. She's a natural. The only time you can sense her being even a little uncomfortable was during prayer.

The night rolls on until your parents and the last of their friends are playing card games in the living room. You've never joined in on these games because you're terrible at lying but Santana, of course, was roped in by your father for a game of poker. After a few hands, you smile knowingly because from where you're standing you can see her cards. You know she's letting them win.

"Pierce, you're taking all her money. Let the poor girl go." Your mother yells from the couch when he excitedly collects the pot in the middle.

You laugh and move forward, placing your hands on Santana's shoulders from behind. "I'm going to steal my friend now." You tell the group and your father grumbles the loudest.

"To be continued." Santana laughs, "Next time I'll be back with a vengeance."

You roll your eyes at them and pull her away and upstairs into your old room. She smiles wryly when you turn the light on and her eyes take in the sight of a room decorated by your high school self. It looks absolutely ridiculous and you already know she's thinking it.

"Whatever you're gonna say, don't." You tell her pointedly as you close the door behind her. She turns and looks at you with a smirk and you shove her shoulder lightly. "I'm not above fighting you, Santana."

"Wow, so feisty tonight." She giggles, holding her hands up in defense. "All I was going to say was nice posters."

"Don't start with me." You warn her again and she sucks in her lips, trying not to laugh.

"Who would have thought Brittany S. Pierce was actually secretly a Britney fan all along?"

You groan and she lets out her laugh. She's teasing you but in all honesty, you're glad she's comfortable enough to be playful with you right now. Probably because you're alone and she doesn't have to worry about being too careful anymore.

Or maybe the two glasses of wine has something to do with it.

"I missed this." You're eyes widen at your confession because you hadn't meant to say it out loud but you did. You're not sure if Santana had caught your slip because she doesn't respond. Then you notice her shift. It's slight, but she stiffens.

In an attempt to calm her nerves, you offer her your bed to sit on. She doesn't move and instead just watches as you sit on the edge of it, tapping the area beside you. Still, she doesn't take a step so you tap it again.

"Britt…" She shifts nervously in place again.

"No funny business." You try to joke and she blushes. She hesitates but ultimately, she decides to sit next to you. She's stiff again, like the time you watched Sleeping Beauty on your couch at home. You lean to the side and bump shoulders with her.

She laughs nervously, "Sorry. I'm just trying to give you the space you asked for."

You think about her words. She's letting you call the shots.

"What if..." You draw out, "What if I said I don't need space anymore?" Your eyes skate over her features and she turns to look at you. She knows what you're implying and there's a glint in her eyes as they roam your face slowly. Carefully. Always carefully.

"Then, I need you to be sure, Britt." She pauses for what feels like forever. "Because if you tell me you're sure, I don't think I'd be able to hold back."

You're instantly lightheaded. You weren't expecting that bold of a confession from her. Is she saying what you think she's saying? Is she finally acknowledging that she has feelings for you, too? But she wants you to be sure and you don't know what that means. Is she scared? Of you?

"Santana, I'm not going to hurt you." You tell her with as much honesty as you can muster. Her eyes search yours for a minute before she smiles softly. It doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Your parents seem nice." She finally says, looking away. She's changing the subject because she uncomfortable. Because she doesn't exactly believe you yet. You don't want to let her retreat like this but you don't want to upset her either so you ease up.

"They really like you." You look away too. "I saw you letting my dad win. You didn't have to do that, you know. He's already got a big a head."

She chuckles, "It's only five bucks. It's worth it if it means they don't hate me."

"They could never hate you." You frown and she turns to look at you. For only a second her eyes fall to your lips.

"I could think of a few reasons why they should."

There it is again. So out of character for her but she lets it slip past her walls.

"San…"

 _Knock knock_

The door swings open and your mother steps in, looking tired.

"Only about an hour until midnight but I'm heading to bed now. Will you both be staying up?" She looks between the two of you and you feel Santana shift away from you slightly.

"I always do." You smile and your mother turns her attention to Santana.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Santana. Make sure you take home a pie, okay?"

"Will do." Santana straightens, "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Pierce. Happy New Year."

Your mother smiles, hesitating near the doorway slightly but eventually decides to walk further into your room and hugs the both of you good night. Once she leaves and closes your door again, you turn back to Santana. She's fidgeting with her hands on her lap.

"Should we watch tv?" You offer, nodding toward the tv on your dresser. She doesn't say anything, and just sighs softly. You need to be careful around her. Just as careful as she is around you. When she looks at you, you can see the conflict in her eyes.

You decide to take the lead and move to the back of your bed, leaning against the headboard and reaching for the remote, bringing the tv to life. Eventually, she follows suit, sitting beside you. You flip through the channels and land on the Rockin' Eve special.

You keep the volume low as you both sit there, watching in silence as more than a million freezing people stand there waiting for the new year to begin.

After a few minutes you boldly decide to take a chance and you shift, placing your head on Santana's shoulder. And just as you expected, she stiffens.

"I'm cold," you lie, "Is this okay?"

You wait as she thinks it over. It's obvious what you're doing. She knows that if you were really cold, you would've just grabbed one of the many blankets on the bed that you both just happen to be sitting on.

When she doesn't say anything or relax her stiff shoulders, you sigh and begin to move off of her, but her voice stops you.

"N-no. It's okay." She stutters out. Your eyes watch as one of her hands grasp to the bottom of her sweater desperately. Carefully, you place your head back down. She stiffens again, but this time she eventually softens, allowing you to snuggle closer.

For a long while, you sit like that beside her and listen to her steady breathing. You strain your ears in hopes of catching the faint sounds of her heartbeat. You want to know what she sounds like. You want to know if it echoes yours.

"Don't ever go to this." Santana suddenly says, softly, "I went once and only once. I'm not even exaggerating a little bit when I say it was truly the worst experience of my life."

You chuckle at that and imagine a very cold and very grumpy Santana surrounded by a million drunkards in Times Square.

"My roommate at the time actually suggested I go out and get my _midnight kiss_ from a complete stranger." She laughs, "Horrible idea. I should of known not to listen to her. She always gives the worst advice."

You smile but stay quiet. She's telling you more about her life. She's opening up and it makes the hairs on your skin stand still. The last thing you want is to scare her back into her shell again.

So you stay quiet, waiting for her to divulge more as you continue to watch the screen in front. When the last performer of the night steps on stage, she chokes out a laugh. "Speak of the devil."

It takes you a minute but your eyes widen once you make the connection, moving your head slightly off her shoulder to look at her.

" _Berry_?" You ask, your mouth wide open as a smirk forms on her lips. "You mean to tell me your roommate was _Rachel_ Berry?"

"Trust me, her voice is just as irritating in person as it is through the radio." She laughs, keeping her eyes on the tv to watch her friend perform. Throughout the whole performance, you silently take in her side profile, even catching the small twitch of pride at the corner of her lips when Rachel sings the high note perfectly at the end.

There's still so much you have to learn about her.

"So, did you get it?" You ask softly once Rachel leaves the stage. She turns to look at you and when she realizes how close you are, her eyes fall to your lips.

"G-get what?"

You smirk, "Your midnight kiss with a stranger."

Her eyes don't leave your lips and you watch as her cheeks flush slightly. She doesn't answer your question. Instead, you both sit there, inches apart, as the 60 second countdown begins.

 _Tick, tick, tick, tick._

She draws a small breath and you feel the exhale on your lips. It charges you and gives you life, confirming what you had already known. You don't even have to second guess your feelings anymore. Especially after watching her interact throughout the night and seeing how easily she fits into your life. You want this.

 _Tick, tick, tick, tick._

Her eyes finally find yours again and you lean in slowly but she shakes her head and leans away. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that her hand has abandoned her sweatshirt and is now gripping tightly at the edge of your bed. The sounds on your screen get louder and the ten second countdown begins.

 _Ten. Nine. Eight._

"I wish you weren't so careful, Santana." You whisper, your breath hits her lips and you can see the effect it has on her, eyes turning dark.

 _Five. Four. Three._

"Careful what you wish for."

 _One._

It surprises you that Santana is the one to close the distance. It's almost forceful and you gasp onto her lips when she pulls back for only a second before she brings her hand up to thread through your hair, pulling you in again. It completely overwhelms you, this electricity that's radiating between the two of you.

You weren't expecting for her to kiss you like this but you're also not complaining. She's not holding back and you're suddenly dizzy the moment her tongue swipes your bottom lip softly, making you melt further into her touch. Returning the favor, you press harder into her, smiling when she hums her approval.

It's a completely different kiss than your first. It's more like an explosion of pent up energy and it sets your body on fire.

You feel every muscle of yours tighten when her hand finds your shoulder, gently pushing you back against the headboard. At first you think she might mount you and you almost die at the thought but then she pulls away. Her lips are full and her eyes dark, and behind all of that you can still register the faintest expression of fear.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Her voice is raspy and she clears her throat, shaking her head, "I don't know where that-"

"I'm sure," you quickly tell her, leaning forward. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, you do your very best to reassure her. "I'm so sure, Santana."


	11. Monday

_**Chapter 11: Monday**_

It happens in layers, but the change in Santana is like night and day.

After constant reassurance -read: stolen kisses- you've successfully gotten through to her that this is what you want. That _she_ is what you want.

 _I'm sure. I'm so sure._

You had to repeat that to her on more than one occasion and even after all of that it still took her a good three weeks before she realized you had already thought of the two you as officially dating. But once you got through that particular wall, Santana fully embraced the new dynamic of your relationship.

And one thing's for sure, she wasn't lying when she said she won't hold back.

 _If you really want this, I'm all in._

Those words were whispered into your hair one lazy Saturday afternoon as you were snuggled into her on your couch. You're sure she had thought you were asleep, but it was the way in which she said it that really got to you. Almost like she was saying it to herself.

You've noticed she still does that sometimes. She'll let things slip when you least expect it and it's almost like little glimpses of her inner most thoughts. The more time you spend with her, the more you begin to realize how much of herself she'd been holding back this whole time.

And as much as you had enjoyed the awkward and flustered Santana you first met a half year ago, what you have now is so much better.

She's steady. Confident. Not as afraid of the unknown and no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You've also come to learn that there are multiple versions of Santana and she's an expert at switching between them. For the most part, Santana on campus, is very different from _Secret Girlfriend Santana_ , your personal favorite. For obvious reasons but mostly because it includes the word _girlfriend._ And also because she reserves it only for when it's just the two of you.

You, on the other hand, are not as talented as Santana.

It's hard for you to hide your smiles, even harder to hide your eyes, and Santana _knows_ it. You can see it in her eyes every time she catches you. She'll scold you, playfully, to stay in character. To not get caught.

That's usually when it hits you.

And you're not entirely sure why this is happening now but recently, your mind started doing this new thing where you can't help but wonder if you're enough for her. Or if you're being too selfish. And it scares you because now that you've spent all this time getting Santana out of her shell, you're only now starting to realize what that means for her.

Because you can see it when she takes extra care into being calculated and careful. Always on campus and always in front of others. Even in front of random strangers on the street, which is already pretty rare since you hardly go out in public with her. She's resigned to hiding herself again. For you. Going back into the closet that she had long left behind.

And sure, she was _technically_ already in the closet since she couldn't exactly come out given her current job, but this, this is _different_. Now, she's actively hiding. You both are.

It never comes up in conversation but it's like an unspoken agreement. She knows that you're nowhere near ready yet. That there's so much you have to figure out still but all you know for sure is that you just want to be with her. She knows it's going to take time for you to get your ducks in a row and, for now at least, she's okay with it.

Still, you can't help but think that if Santana were with someone else, she wouldn't have to hide who she is. She'd be able to hold their hand in public, or kiss their cheek every morning. She'd be able to do the things you wish you could do.

But it doesn't faze her. At least, you don't think it does because she's being _so_ good to you. Sometimes, you think she must know it when you get like this because when you become quiet and in your thoughts, she's always so patient and understanding. Always so accommodating.

She's just so… amazing. You don't know what you did to deserve someone like her.

 _Ding_

Your computer snaps you back to reality and you clear your throat, turning your head to read the new message.

 _Lopez, S: Stop it._

You blush. She's caught you staring again. You look up from your desk and past the student's working hard on their tests. Santana's sitting in the back, like she usually is, but right now, she's staring right at you. A glint in her eyes and a perfectly arched eyebrow.

 _Pierce, B: Sorry._

 _Lopez, S: Britt… You really need to start controlling yourself here._

 _Pierce, B: I can't help it. Not when you look that cute wearing my sweater._

You glance up and watch as Santana reads your message, a grin appearing on her lips.

So, you might've _accidentally_ left your favorite sweater at her place a few days ago. She never mentioned anything of it though, so you weren't sure if she even saw it.

But then she showed up to work today wearing it, making you feel all kinds of wonderful. Like, actual butterflies in your stomach, kind of wonderful. Then when you hugged her you instantly realized that she must've washed it because it even smelt like her.

At that revelation, you had to fight every bone in your body to not kiss her right then and there in the middle of the teacher's lounge. You wanted nothing more than to bury your nose into her shoulder. Her neck. Her-

 _Ding_

 _Lopez, S: You're doing it again!_

You roll your eyes dramatically and you hear the faint giggle from the back of the room. Sighing, you decide to focus on grading the few tests that have already been turned in and try your best to ignore the brunette across the room.

You don't dare look at her again until the end of class and all the students have left. When your eyes finally find hers, she's soft.

Girlfriend Santana is always so soft.

She gathers her belongings and walks up to your desk, glancing quickly to the doorway before looking back at you with a coy smile.

"Babe," her voice low, "I can't keep sitting in on your class if you don't start behaving yourself."

You smile widely at her and she chuckles, shaking her head at you. See, you just can't seem to gain control of your smiles. Not when she calls you things like, _babe_.

"Stop it." She scolds you again but she's still smiling.

You shake your head defiantly, making her laugh again. She makes you _so_ happy. You wonder if she knows how badly you want to shout that from the rooftop. If only you could. If only you had the courage.

Eventually Santana leaves to teach her next class and you move on to prepare for yours. You can't wait till after school because she had asked you earlier to meet her at her classroom once the school clears out.

You spend the rest of the day focused on your students and your work. Just because you're the happiest you've ever been, doesn't mean you can start slacking off.

Time passes quickly and soon, the halls are quiet, no sounds of shoes shuffling or teens gossiping.

You pack up the last of your things and make your way to Santana's classroom. When you reach her door you hesitate, smiling at the recognition of Santana's fingers tapping softly at the keys of a piano.

You're ears are trained to the sound by now. You've heard her silently play more than a few times and you have to wonder if she plays the same thing everytime. All you know is that sometimes it's your song because once in a while she'll hum along. Especially on the nights you've spent sitting on her couch prepping your lesson plans, as she's tucked in the corner with her keyboard, headphones plugged in. She always hums when it's just the two of you.

Content with your eavesdropping, you finally turn the corner and lean against the door frame, your eyes easily finding her brunette hair. She's sitting at the familiar student desk, glasses already on and framing her face perfectly. She doesn't wear them often, but they were a pleasant surprise the first time they made an appearance. You've _definitely_ got a thing for nerd Santana and she knows it.

She doesn't notice you right away but eventually, like always, her eyes flutter up to meet yours. You don't even have to flicker the lights anymore. Somehow, she just _knows_. You watch the shy smile form on her lips as she stops what she's doing and removes her headphones.

"Come in, Ms. Pierce." She stands and moves back to her desk. You make your way in and stand at the other side of her desk, remembering to keep a respectable distance. Even though you're likely to be the last two on campus, you never know who else could be lurking around.

"You wanted to see me, Ms. Lopez?"

She turns to you slowly, and where you expect to see playful eyes, you find careful ones. "I wanted to ask you something." She mumbles as she looks down at her shoes, scuffing them across the floor.

She's nervous. It's cute to see her like this again. To not scare her away, you soften when she looks back up at you, allowing her to continue.

"What are your dinner plans for next Monday?"

The randomness of her question confuses you and you have to spend more than a second to think about it, but then the realization hits you.

"San..." You blush heavily in recognition. Next week Monday is the day after your birthday. You weren't planning on doing anything special with Santana because you haven't been dating long and you didn't want her to feel pressured. But still, she's telling you she wants to take you out. And you know she only chose the Monday because you already have weekend plans with your parents. Canceling that would raise some serious questions.

Careful Santana is always so calculated.

"I know it's a school night but if you're up for it, we could go a few towns over," she says softly, looking around at her surroundings, "away from all of this."

"Are you asking me out on a date, Santana? A _birthday_ date?"

"Yes?" She looks at you, her face scrunches up in apprehension and you can't help but giggle.

"So confident." You tease, taking the few steps until you're standing in front of her. She leans away slightly but you stop her by pulling her in for a hug. Eventually, she relaxes in your embrace and you wait -you always wait- until you can feel the tender touch of her hands resting on your waist.

"Is that a yes?"

"Definitely."

* * *

The sun is setting as you look out the window of Santana's car and you watch the lights of the passing city slowly come to life.

Santana's driving. Her car is simple, clean and not flashy in any way, but you can tell that she takes extra care of it. She's like that, you've come to learn. She doesn't have very many material items but the few things she does hold dear are in pristine condition.

She explained it to you once by saying it's a sort of sense of security. A peace of mind that she's done everything she can to insure nothing goes wrong and if it does, she's not at fault. She likes the assurance of it. The black and white way she looks at things makes you appreciate the little things she does for you so much more. She's literally throwing caution to the wind to be with you. She's taking a chance on you because she trusts you. She trusts that you wont hurt her.

You pray you never will.

"You look nice." Santana's voice cuts through the quiet and you turn to look at her. She glances to her side and you watch as her eyes skate over your outfit quickly before looking back to the road ahead. "I'm sorry I didn't get to say it earlier when I picked you up."

"It's okay," You chuckle, "I kind of got the memo when you greeted me by saying _good morning_."

Santana rolls her eyes at that but you can see the faint blush on her cheeks. You both went straight home after work to get ready for your date tonight so when she came to your door and she first laid eyes on you, she couldn't form a single coherent sentence.

The way she looked at you when you opened your front door, it ignited every single cell inside of you.

"I wish I could take a picture of this." She smiles, "You sitting there with the sunset as a backdrop. You're just so beautiful, Britt. And I know it's only been a little over a month and everything's still so new but sometimes I'll wake up in the morning and I don't know... I'm just so happy. You make me so happy."

"San..." Your eyes nearly tearing now, "Stop it."

You can't handle her like this. Alone in her car as she showers you with love words.

"I mean it." She looks at you again. "Sorry, I guess I just don't get to say that out loud enough."

Your heart jumps at her words but in a different kind of way. A _guilty_ kind of way. You brush off the feeling quickly, not wanting to ruin the mood. Especially since this is your first official date, away from everything, and Santana is being extra sweet to you.

The drive takes over an hour but you don't mind. Not when most of the time is spent holding Santana's hand on your lap as she draws tiny circles with her thumb on the back of yours and she sings along to whatever is playing on the radio. By the time you reach the restaurant the sun has completely set.

Santana is the perfect gentlewoman, opening doors for you and holding your hand as she leads the way. Once you're seated at your table in the restaurant, she begins ordering for the both of you and you sit there quietly, allowing her to take charge. Every few seconds, as she's speaking to the waiter, she'll glance at you from above the menu and smile. The minute your waiter walks away, you don't even think twice before you're leaning in and kissing her on the lips gently.

The kiss definitely surprises her but what surprises _you_ is that she doesn't flinch. Not in the same way she usually does when you kiss. Even in the comfort of your home or even her own, where you're sure no one can see you, there's always a split second of panic on her lips.

But tonight, miles away from home, she returns your affection without a hint of hesitation and it sets you on fire. The kiss ends up getting a little too heated and it isn't until Santana giggles onto your lips that you finally pull away.

"What was that for?" Her eyes twinkling as she searches your features.

"For being so good to me." You tell her and she smiles, reaching towards you to hold your hand on the table. Although a small gesture it easily makes you flush. She's actually holding your hand, _affectionately_ , in _public_ , and _over_ the table.

First the kiss and now this?

You expected her to be more open tonight but not like this. Nothing could have prepared you for this. You can't even bring yourself to be scared that someone might see because you're just that far away from home. No one here knows who you are here.

And most importantly, no one here cares. It feels almost unreal. No more stolen glances or hidden kisses.

Then, like clockwork, your mind immediately wanders. Is this what it would feel like if you weren't in the situation you're in? If in an alternate universe, you were actually open and honest? If you weren't afraid?

Your mind reels. It never fails. Always in these moments of bliss, you become acutely aware of your reality.

She deserves so much more than what you can give her.

"Hey," Santana squeezes your hand gently, "You're thinking about it too much."

The way she reads you so easily is honestly too jarring sometimes. It's like she can physically see it when the seeds of doubt begin to take root. You feel guilty at the idea of her knowing your insecurities but she never judges. She knows you're still adjusting so it's to be expected.

She's so good at guiding you back to her.

But the thought of her turning off _this_ Santana, _girlfriend_ Santana, as soon as you get back to your city makes your chest ache. Like she's on some sort of automatic timer, turning on 'best friend' Santana the majority of the time you're together and only switching back behind closed doors, hidden texts, and late night phone calls. What makes it worse is she does it all without complaining. Without making it into a big deal.

"How do you do that?" You ask, biting your bottom lip.

"Do what?"

"How can you switch it on and off so easily like that?" You shake your head and her eyes soften as she takes a breath.

"This isn't my first rodeo, Britt." Her fingers brush your wrist softly, "I'm just trying to get it right this time around. But, I don't ever want you to think my feelings for you are switched _off_. I'll keep that in mind."

You have to close your eyes because you still can't shake the feeling. It's one thing to go through something like this together but knowing that Santana already had and she's only in the predicament again because of you, makes you feel like you're dragging her down.

"I don't deserve you." You finally say, shaking your head, "And you, you deserve someone who doesn't have to travel an hour and a half away from home just to feel at ease. Someone you can take out _on_ their actual birthday, not the day _after_. Someone-"

"Brittany, stop." She cuts you off, her voice a shade more serious as her eyes lock onto yours. "I don't want just _someone_. I just want _you_."

A tear releases and you're quick to move your free hand, wiping it away. You don't know why, but hearing those words out loud was the final straw.

"Oh, babe." Santana cooes, her thumb caressing the back of your hand. It's too much. She's too much. "Britt, look at me." You blink away another tear before looking up and find soft eyes. "You can't keep doing this to yourself every time you feel a little bit happy. I want this. I know more than anyone what I signed up for and I'm okay. Promise."

"I don't want to hurt you, Santana. I feel like I'm hurting you somehow."

"You're not." She's quick to shake her head. "You want to be with me, right?"

"Of course I do. You know I do."

"And… you're sure?" She smiles wryly, making you crack small smile in return. She obviously knows the answer.

"I'm sure. I'm so sure."

"Good." She moves your hand up to her lips and places a light kiss to your knuckles. "Then that's all I need to know."

* * *

After dinner, Santana tells you that she has a surprise in store for you. It's unexpected but still, it makes you giddy because dinner was better than you could have ever imagined and now that there's something else, it'll probably cause you to burst into a bubbling mess.

She takes you to a small record store. It's not far from the restaurant but at this time of night, it looks to be already closed. You're about to ask her what's going on but before you get the chance, she moves to the small lock box on the side, punches in a few numbers and opens it, revealing a key.

When she turns back to you she laughs, probably because of the very confused expression gracing your face.

"A friend of mine called in a favor for me."

You nod, not really understanding her explanation but still you watch as she unlocks the door and allows you to step in first. It's a pretty small store from what you can see. The lights are off but you can make out the rows of shelving that hold various selections of vinyls.

Waiting for her direction, you stand there as she locks the door from the inside. "You're not going to murder me here, are you?" You ask innocently and she giggles lightly.

"It's just in the back through that door." She points toward the back of the store before grabbing your hand and leading the way. Once you finally get inside the second door, your breath hitches.

It's a studio. She's taken you to a studio and you don't know what to do with yourself because you can't tell if you're nervous or if you're excited.

"So, I'm not one for grand romantic gestures, but something tells me you are." Santana's eyes watch you carefully before turning away to flip on the lights, bringing the room to life. When she turns back to you, she chuckles. "Baby, I haven't even done anything yet."

"Shut up." You mumble shyly, bringing your hands up to your face to wipe at your watery eyes. "Are you going to sing to me?"

"And then some." She smiles, turning on the light to the inner room, revealing a grand piano and a microphone set up inside.

You can't speak. You can't even think. A tear makes it's escape and Santana quickly moves to wipe it from your cheek.

"Oh god, is it too much? Am I too much?" She asks, and you're quick to shake your head, taking a steadying breath.

"This what you've been practicing all this time?"

Her cheeks flush with a tint of red and she nods her head. "I hope you don't mind, I rearranged it a little."

"Santana..." You can't believe her. You can't believe she would do something like this for you.

"I know it's your favorite and I know you like it when I sing to you so I just thought, maybe if you had a recording of it, you could listen to it whenever you wanted to. Whenever we can't be _together_ and you need a reminder-"

You don't let her finish because you just _need_ to kiss her, holding her tightly against you. You tell her through your lips how much this means to you. She knew exactly what you needed. She knew that with as much reassurance you had to give her the first few weeks, you too needed a little bit of that reflected back. And she absolutely delivered in the most magical of ways.

A super special Santana way that reminds you on command, at the push of a button, how much you mean to her.

You're a complete mess by the time you pull away and Santana eyes are glistening back at you as she helps you wipe away the last few tears that have found their way out from behind your eyes.

She sets up quickly and it's not long until she's giving you little instruction on how to record from the studio side. Thanks to chapel, you already know your way around a mixing console so it's not difficult to know how to press record. Before you know it, she's on the other side of the glass, sitting at the piano.

"Can you hear me, Britt?" Santana speaks into the microphone and you hold up an enthusiastic thumb to her. She giggles, probably at the silly grin you're sporting, and the sound of it makes you wish you had already pressed record. "So, as you know, I've been practicing this for a while now. I'm hoping to get this done in one shot." She smiles proudly at you.

Once you press record and she starts playing, the whole world fades away.

It's a beautiful rendition and you already feel yourself tearing up again. It's slower than the movie version, but still, it's powerful. She's made it her own. You've never heard her like this before. She's usually soft with her singing around you, never really reaching her full voice. You almost can't believe you're witnessing this.

She's absolutely enchanting and your mind takes note, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of your life.

And after tonight, you'll have your own personal sound bite that will never let you forget it.


	12. Camp

_**Chapter 12: Camp**_

Much to your surprise, Santana slowly began making an effort to become more involved with GCA. You haven't asked her to, but all of a sudden you've noticed that her initial apprehension isn't as strong as it used to be.

She's started coming to work earlier and instead of hiding away in the safety her own classroom, she starts and ends most days in the teacher's lounge, socializing with the others. You also notice the way she doesn't shift uncomfortably at the mention of religion anymore. Like she's slowly allowing it to take space around her.

You see the most change during chapel. Sometimes, you'll catch her actually listening to the message and you can't help but smile. You can't really explain it, but seeing her like that, sitting beside you in the sound booth silently listening to the word, it does something to you.

Because your faith is such a big part of who you are, and Santana knows it. It's the reason you're still here. Alive. And most importantly, _loved_.

After she met your parents, you waited for her to bring it up. Anyone with eyes would have noticed the fact that your father is very obviously an Asian man and asked right away, but she didn't. She never questioned it. And honestly, for a while it made you feel like maybe you were a little bit normal. Like maybe you weren't so out of place.

Because when it's just you and your mother. You're matching blonde locks and pale skin overshadow the other major differences. It's not as noticeable. It's... _passing_. Throw your father into the mix and suddenly you're forced to provide an _explanation_ for no other reason than to appease their curiosity.

Eventually though, you told Santana your story. How you were born from different parents. Parents who didn't take care of you. Parents who didn't love you the way you were supposed to be loved. You told her how you were taken away for your own safety and placed into the system.

You were five years old when Pierce and Whitney Pierce opened their home to foster you. And still, even at that young age, your spirit was already broken. They spent months caring for you, feeding you, loving you, _healing_ you. The day they asked if you wanted to become a permanent member of their family was honestly the best day of your life. By age seven, you were adopted.

You were _saved._

You happily took on the role you were given, falling in love with their faith, and cultivating your own. Growing up, the tight knit community of your church was all you've ever known.

And now, you have Santana to add to it. Because not only is she more involved with GCA, she's begun attending Sunday church services, too. Well, not every week, but sometimes on the weekends where you don't get to see her all that much, she'll text you that she misses you extra and show up on Sunday morning.

Of course, your Sunday School duties come first meaning she'll have to listen to your father talk for 45 minutes before it's appropriate to stop by and say hi to you. And although you'd like to think she endures all of that just so she can see you for even a little while, you know better. You can read her better by now, and you know that there's at least a little part of her that's called to hear the gospel. Even if she uses the guise of seeing you to do so.

Sure, that may not make her the _perfect_ Christian, but what's most important is that she's trying. It'll take a lot more than a few services here and there for her faith to be restored but watching her go through this journey, being a part of it, makes you fall even deeper in love with her.

And you are. You're so _so_ in love with her. Santana Lopez, your beautiful, careful and calculated girlfriend.

It didn't take you long to figure it out and truth be told, you don't know if it's too soon to be feeling like this so instead of telling her you love her by actually _saying_ the words, you do it in every other way you know how.

You tell it to her through little touches and light kisses. Through heart eyes and bashful smiles. Through cups of coffee or freshly baked muffins. And _notes_ , so many notes. She continues to pin them up on her board beside her computer that she might need a bigger board soon.

Sometimes you think you're being too much for her but then when you're alone, she'll remind you of just how smitten she is with you, too. And she'll do it in her own special Santana ways.

Like when she smiles at you, softly, always so softly. Or when you're sitting on the couch after a long day of classroom shenanigans and you place your feet on her lap, she'll fidget with your favorite piece of jewelry that rests at your ankle. Or when she plays her piano for you, and your personal favorite, when she sings to you. Always, _always_ your favorite song.

Today isn't any different. It's Friday night, meaning Santana will be coming over to your house for _date night_. It's usually at your house since she doesn't own a TV, and at this point, date night is synonymous with movie night.

Your eyes roam your messy home before eventually landing on the small keyboard piano tucked in the corner of your living room and you can't help but smile.

Santana brought it over a few weeks ago after you had mentioned to her once that you were thinking about learning more. You were never much of an instrument playing kind of girl, but you knew the basics.

By the very next Friday, Santana walked into your home with her 'spare' keyboard and set it up next to your bookcase. She even brought a beginner's book of sheet music for you to practice with.

She's literally perfect.

Your doorbell rings, making you jump, forgetting that you were supposed to be tidying up. Realizing it's too late now, you tear your eyes away and move to the front door to let Santana inside.

As soon as the door clicks shut, and you're sure no one can see, you duck down to place a searing kiss to Santana's lips. When you pull away her eyes are slightly darker, an eyebrow arched in question.

"I just really missed you." You shrug innocently.

"It's only been like three hours, Britt." She laughs as you pull her further into your home.

* * *

After Easter, the school begins its annual fundraiser for the high school camp retreat, held over the week of spring break. Although technically a church function, a good amount of the students attend due to their parents not wanting their teenagers to be at home doing nothing or getting in trouble.

It's nice too because the church always offers the teachers the chance to volunteer as leaders since it's technically a retreat for them too.

Since its inception, you've attended the retreat every year. You always volunteer as a camp leaders, but this year, you almost want to stay behind. Mostly because it'll be an entire week of no school, meaning you could spend a good majority of time with Santana. _Alone_.

But you already know you're going to volunteer. You're parents would ask too many questions if you didn't. You just hope you can convince Santana to join with you.

Walking into the teacher's lounge, you start the first pot of coffee. You eye the camp leader sign up sheet from afar until you eventually decide you might as well put your name down now. The second you grab the clipboard and your eyes land on the page you feel the full force of butterflies in your stomach.

 _Santana Lopez_

Tracing Santana's familiar handwriting with your fingertips, you smile softly. She's volunteering. It's not even that she's doing it to spend time with you either because you hadn't even written your name down yet and it makes you almost giddy. She's putting herself out there and you're can't be more proud of her.

"At first I wasn't really sure." You turn around at the sound of her voice and see Santana standing at the door with nervous eyes, shifting between her feet. "But then I thought maybe it could be fun. Plus the older kids are finally starting to loosen up to me. I didn't want them coming back and I'm left out of all their new inside jokes."

You smile because she doesn't need to explain herself. Even though you know the true reason is so much more than what she's comfortable admitting, it's not your place. And it's not your walk, it's hers.

"I would've been more than happy to explain any and all inside jokes to you."

Santana smiles at your joke, rolling her eyes. "That's not the same and you know it."

"Well, I guess it's settled then." You turn away from her and sign your name below hers, "We are _so_ going to win on costume contest night."

At that, Santana holds up a finger and you stifle a laugh. "Hold up Britt, I did not sign up for that."

"Oh, but honey," you smirk, pointing to the clipboard. "You did."

* * *

Santana agrees to drive the both of you to camp. To your surprise, she had originally suggested riding on the bus with the students but even for you, that's a tall ask. You love the kids with all your heart but being stuck on a bus with them for a couple of hours is definitely past your limits. And from previous experience, you know how insane those bus rides can be.

Now that Santana is coming along, you don't have to choose between a busload of rowdy students or driving by yourself. It also gives you a chance to be alone with her more.

Not soon after leaving the city, Santana asks you to check her bag for her phone, thinking she had forgotten it behind. You give it a ring and have to fight your way to the bottom of her duffel to fish out the ringing phone. When you finally get to it, your breath is caught in your throat at the name that flashes back at you.

"What's wrong?" Santana asks, looking at you curiously. She glances down at her phone in your hand and once she realizes why you've gone silent, she flushes the deepest red you've ever seen.

" _Phyllis_?" Your heart is beating so fast you think you might have to hold your chest to make sure it stays where it belongs as you think back to that day in chapel. _Princess Phyllis_.

"Oh um- that's not-" She lets out a nervous laugh and you watch as her hands clutch tighter at the steering wheel. "I didn't- I mean- _I_ _did_ , but I just-"

"Santana, I love it." You interrupt, giving her the easy out. As much as you want to hear her try to explain herself, you don't really want her to have a panic attack in the middle of the freeway.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Now pay attention to the road." You giggle, reaching for her hand to calm the both of your heartbeats.

Santana holds your hand the whole of the ride over, except for the few instances when she doesn't know where she's going and you need to direct her.

As soon as she drives under the rustic arch that reads 'Welcome to Camp Encounter', she turns to you with a big grin. You lean in quickly to kiss her on the cheek because you can't help it. Her dimples are just that adorable.

She stays in the car while you hop out and check in at the front desk. You're the first to arrive, which isn't surprising because you left early and everyone else is arriving in the buses.

When you get back into the car, you instruct Santana on where to park, nearest to your cabin so that it's easier to unpack. When she puts her car in park you look at her and laugh.

"What?" She tries to hide her smile.

"You're excited. Admit it."

"If anything I'm... _indifferent_."

"No." You shake your head, "You're _excited_. And if you don't admit it then I won't take you on a super special private tour and show you all my favorite spots before everyone else arrives and the chaos begins."

"Alright, so maybe I'm a _little_ excited." Santana rolls her eyes playfully.

"Nope. Not good enough."

She laughs. "Okay fine, I'm _a lot_ excited."

You lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips and she smiles into it. You won't be getting another kiss for a long while once the others arrive so you linger for a second, allowing yourself the chance to appreciate this closeness.

It's not long before you're both unpacking the car and bringing your bags into your shared cabin. It's not unusual for two camp leaders to share a cabin, and since everyone else knows that you're best friends, it only made sense that the two of you would pair up.

As soon as you place your bag next to Santana's on one of the twin beds, she turns to you with wide eyes.

"W-what are you doing?" Santana glances at your bag on the bed she had clearly already claimed. There's two beds in the cabin, there's no real reason why you would be putting your bag next to hers.

"It's our own cabin and no one else will have the keys." You shift in place and Santana arches an eyebrow. "I was thinking maybe we can share?"

"Britt... I don't know."

"We can make both beds look like they're being used if that helps?" You offer and Santana takes a minute to think about it before looking back at you. Playfulness in her eyes.

"I was waiting for the ' _no funny business_ ' joke." She smirks.

You can only blush at her words. Actually, you know you're blushing hard because you can feel it at the tips of your ears.

"Oh, unless?" Her eyes soften but the smirk is unchanged, "Unless, this is a ' _yes funny business_ ' kind of proposition?"

"W-what?" You stutter out a laugh. "No… I just thought it'd be nice to sleep with you."

" _Wanky_."

"Oh my god." You cover your face with your hands in an attempt to hide your fire red cheeks. "That's not what I… I didn't-"

Santana laughs heartily and you chance a peek through your fingers, "Britt, it's fine. I don't mind sharing." She says, smiling at you, "We just have to be extra careful okay? With or without funny business."

You remove your hands from your face and pout. She laughs again before leaning in and kissing your cheek softly. It's a learned reaction by now, kissing away your pout. Admittedly, since you've realized this, you tend to use your pout around her a lot more often.

"Come on," She grabs your hand and leads you out of the cabin. "You promised me a private tour."

Over the next 15 minutes you walk Santana around the facilities. You show her a few of the other cabins and the gathering hall, the great lawn, and the lake and swimming pool. Amusingly, she's the most excited when you show her the fire pit, telling you that she can't wait until later tonight.

"It's just a regular old fire pit." You laugh lightly and she turns to look at you.

"Well, even though we'll be surrounded by busloads of and teenagers and our colleagues," she pauses, her eyes sparkling like you've never seen before, "I've never sat under the stars next to a warm fire... _with someone I love_."

"Someone you what?" Her words catch you off guard and your chest tightens so much it almost burns. How is that she can she do this to you so easily? You can already feel your eyes watering. She looks around quickly before reaching for your hand and her touch causes ignites goosebumps to rise on every inch of your skin.

"I've always thought that I'd never put myself in a position like this again. But, I don't know. It's like, when I'm with you, Britt, it feels alright somehow. Like I know it's right."

You feel the wetness of your cheeks before you register the fact that your crying. Crying tears of happiness because you get it. You feel it, too. So much. Every time she looks at you, you can feel it deep in your bones. Santana _feels_ right. _Right_ is the only true way to describe it.

"I love you, Brittany." Santana's eyes hold yours, never wavering. You feel like you're floating. You feel like you're falling. You feel _everything_. "And since you've already seen your name in my phone, I figured I might as well just say it out loud."

"I love you so much, Santana." Your own lips tingle as the words leave your mouth and it feels amazing. It feels _true_. For so long you've been wanting to say it. You've been holding it and showing it but this, saying it out loud for the first time to her, it's more than you could've imagined. "But right now, I'm so so mad at you."

"What?" Her face falls slightly, "Why?"

"Because I _really_ want to kiss you and you had to go and say this at literally the worst possible place where I _can't_ kiss you."

Santana giggles at that, shaking her head with soft smile. "No, I think this is the perfect place, Britt. And I'll gladly take an IOU kiss at a later time."

The buses arrive shortly after your tour and you both switch into work-mode, checking in every student and making sure they go to their assigned cabins.

Santana leaves you to help set up the gathering hall. For a week, the gathering hall will be a place of worship, fellowship, and communion. Since a handful of Santana's music students lead the student worship team, it makes sense that she would feel compelled to assist them.

Once the chaos dies down and everyone is seemingly settled in and unpacked, Sue's voice is heard through the camp speakers, telling everyone to gather for the first morning message.

Santana helps you as you shepherd the students into the gathering hall. As soon as everyone is seated, the both of you take your rightful seats at the soundboard.

That's when you notice the small book in her hands. _A bible._ It looks old and but still only slightly tattered, and you can barely make out the small gold script at the bottom of the cover. It's a name but it's not hers. You try to read it discreetly because you're curious but it's mostly faced away from you.

Suddenly, Santana moves it so that it's right in front of you. When you look at her she laughs knowingly, pushing it into your hands to hold.

You take it tentatively and inspect it with care. It's beautiful. In a way that you know it's been heavily used but still very much taken care of. Your fingers trace the gold lettering as you look over the small black bible and smile at the familiar last name.

 _Alma Lopez_

"It's the only thing I have left from my life in Ohio." Santana explains softly. "It was my abuela's. My grandmother. To be honest, I stole it and kept it to serve as a reminder of my old life. I never thought I'd actually use it one day."

As you flip through it, you find a small photo tucked away in the middle, used as as a bookmark. It's old, and a little discolored, but you can still make out that the little girl sitting on the lap of the older woman is most definitely Santana.

"She passed away while I was living in New York." Your fingers run over the photo as she talks and you can easily see the resemblance. "No one even called to tell me she was sick. I had to hear it from my ex that while I was living it up in my new life, the person I was closest to growing up had died. And by the time I found out, the funeral had already passed. To think that if she didn't call to tell me, I probably still wouldn't have known."

"I'm so sorry, Santana." You turn to her and she shakes her head softly.

"It's why I left New York. I needed to slow down for a bit and reflect. And then this whole teaching opportunity presented itself and I don't know, it felt like a sign. Like maybe I'd find some way to connect to her again, you know?"

She looks so small beside you and you want nothing more than to grab her hand and squeeze it tightly. You want nothing more than to hold her fully. You knew there was more to her joining GCA than just helping children find their passion in music. You knew it meant so much more than that and you love her so much more for telling you this. For trusting you with this.

"It's fitting right?" Santana chokes out a laugh and juts her chin toward the photo, "Turn it around."

You do as she says and find a scripture written there in old ink. _Proverbs 28:13_.

"She always used to say, _the sin is not in the thing, it's in the talking of it_. But once I was outed, she found that scripture and saw it as my only saving grace."

You look at the bible again and easily find the verse highlighted on the same page. The word ' _sin'_ bites at your throat but you shake the feeling away quickly. Santana nudges your shoulder lightly and you turn again to look at her.

"I like to think it's about acceptance more than anything." Her eyes hold yours before moving toward the rest of the room, scanning over the high schoolers settling down, "I just wish she could have seen me now."

"I think she'd be so proud." It's times like this that remind you how unbelievably lucky you are to have found her. She looks at you again, eyes shimmering and you fight the urge to touch her. To comfort her.

Before it becomes too much, Sue begins her opening message and you hand the bible back to Santana. You watch as the pages flutter under her fingertips. You can't help but notice the markings in the book are a mixture of both old ink and new. It never ceases to surprise you how complex she is. You don't think you'll ever fully learn all of her.

The worship team takes over once Sue is done, and towards the end of it, everyone is on their feet, ready to start the week and excited to learn and grow in faith together. And just like you do every year, you can _feel_ it, the raw energy in the room is palpable. It's powerful.

"We're going to close with one last song." Sunshine, the team's lead singer, speaks into the mic. "This is, _Take Your Place_ , written by our very own, Ms. Lopez."

Your head snaps to the brunette beside you and she's already blushing, clearly avoiding your eyes. You're about to ask her when she had the time to not only write a worship song, but also teach it to her students, when the sounds of a soft piano take over. You can only watch as she closes her eyes slowly, and tilts her head back.

The music is slow, almost haunting, as it fills the room like thick smoke, finding every dark and hidden crevice and settling there.

When Sunshine's voice breaks through, it hits you at your chest. Holding you there and leaving you breathless. Your eyes never leave Santana and you notice the small smile at the corner of her lips. Her eyes are shut tightly now and you can hear the low hum of her throat as she follows Sunshine's lead. You can see her fingers twitch to the sounds of the piano and you do your best to imagine her voice in place of Sunshine's.

As you listen to the words, you know how much they mean to her. You know more than anyone here and you feel so incredibly grateful to be witnessing this. It's beautiful. _She's_ beautiful. And with these words, she's completely undone. Vulnerable, giving it all up. Every transgression. Every doubt. Every insecurity about who she is.

She's finally accepting it.

To think of how far she's come. How jaded she was. Her faith was broken but slowly, she let him back in. She's learning to trust in him again. She learning to _love_ him again.

With this song, she's at peace.

* * *

AN: I want to take this time to say thank you so so much to everyone who is on this journey with me. Your belief in this story and in me honestly keep this fire going. Every single review, follow, fav, kudo, sub, reblog, and like, truly truly means the absolute world to me. THANK YOU.

*If you would like to hear what I used as inspiration for the song Santana "wrote" it can be found on spotify called Take Your Place by Debrianna Cabitac. It's a very moving and very beautiful song. She's an independent artist that's just starting out, who I feel focuses more on connecting with your own walk in your spirituality and faith, so if you feel so moved, please support or share if you can.


	13. Touch

_**Chapter 13: Touch**_

 _No funny business._

By the third night of camp, you've both quickly learned that the bed isn't big enough for the two of you. Well, it is but only if one of you are turned into the other. And due to that embarrassing moment when you first arrived, the first two nights were spent cuddling like that.

Santana never brought it up as she laid flat on her back with you turned into her, holding her. There were a few soft kisses here and there, but mostly, you would just lay there together, your bodies learning to fit with each other's throughout the night.

It was also very fitting that your first nights sharing a bed were _low-key_. Anything more wouldn't have felt right. There was so much to take in, with Santana's declarations of love, both to you and to God, it felt nice to just be next to her, listening to her soft and steady heartbeat as you both fell asleep.

Today though, you felt _different_. Charged. Electric.

You spent the day watching her be not only be a teacher but a _leader_. Watching her pretend to not care - but actually very obviously care - for the students was the most adorable thing to witness. At one point, the student's even convinced her, though you're not entirely sure how, to go up to the zip-line platform with them. Your stomach hurt from laughing the moment she realized there was only one way down and it didn't involve stairs.

You couldn't take your eyes off her. She was carefree. Radiant. And her smile, the dimple one, never leaving her features.

 _And then at the pool_. Whew. Ignoring the fact that it was very inappropriate to be feeling that kind of attraction to her while you're supposed to be 'supervising', you couldn't help but notice that even in her one piece bathing suit - a very modest one at that - Santana was absolutely _stunning_. Every smile, every laugh. Every time she caught your eyes, you'd blush deeply and she'd giggle.

The day ended at the fire pit, as usual, and you weren't even a little bit subtle with your longing glances and grinning smiles. Santana would scold you with her eyes of course - as she did throughout the whole day actually - but you didn't care. No one was paying any attention. No one cared.

And unlike the last two nights, when you got back to your cabin and settled into bed, Santana made the move to lay on her side, allowing you to lay on your back.

It's a few minutes of the two of you shifting until your bodies find a fit in this new position and uncontrollable butterflies erupt low in your belly.

"Is this okay?" Santana whispers, her hand moves onto your stomach and the muscles there tighten, butterflies at full force now. You nod silently in response and she moves again, wrapping her arm further around you, her fingers lightly caressing your ribs over your shirt.

You can't help but feel that she's being careful with you again. You think it's because you've never actually talked about being with her in _that way_. But if you're being honest, it's something you've been thinking about for quite some time now.

Although to the standards of many outside of the church, you would be classified a prude, but you don't think of yourself as one. Especially more recently on Friday nights after Santana leaves your house to go home, and you let your mind wander.

Cold showers on Friday nights are most definitely a thing for you now.

Santana's hand begins to move again, slowly up and down along your entire side. Your shirt rides up and when her hand makes contact with your skin, it shocks you to your core. You have to focus on your breathing when her hand slowly disappears completely under your shirt, grazing your ribs again. This time, soft fingertips to burning skin.

With shallow breaths, you shut your eyes in concentration. Santana dips her head slightly and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder and it sets off a chain reaction throughout your entire body. You have to wiggle your toes in an attempt to relieve some of your jitters.

See, you've cuddled with Santana many times before but only on the couch, and most recently the last two nights in bed. But _this_ , this is definitely different. It's more intentional, like she knows exactly what she's implying. You turn your head to look at her, and find dark eyes staring back.

"Breathe, Britt." She reminds you, her hand moves up and when her fingers graze the side of your chest, you let out a strangled breath.

Your heart feels so full because you know. You know she always lets you call the shots. In this relationship, her carefulness towards you and your comfort is unmatched. She always waits for you to initiate contact. Even when you're alone.

Every kiss. Every touch. She _always_ waits.

But she knows you need her to take the lead on this. Because this is the one thing that you don't know. You're lost and you need her to guide you.

"Babe, you're trembling." She whispers, "Is it too much?"

You can barely shake your head, her fingers on your skin are short circuiting your reactions. "Tell me what to do." You manage to let out. You want to do more. You want to make her feel like this too.

"Nothing." She moves her leg over, finding the space between yours and you open them wider for her. "Just relax."

Before you can argue, her leg moves slightly up, the top of her thigh putting just enough pressure _down there_ and catching you by surprise. You're completely embarrassed by the high pitched gasp that erupts from your lips. Your arm flies up and you pull her towards you, needing to feel her closer.

It spurs Santana on as she moves her entire body so that she's hovering above you now, her leg still between yours. As she holds herself there, your eyes lock with hers. They're dark and hooded, but still soft and attentive. You want nothing more than to kiss her and she somehow reads your mind, lowering herself just enough to connect her lips to yours.

This is it. This is the same kiss from New Years, the one you sometimes fantasize about when you're alone and you wonder what would've happened if Santana hadn't stopped herself. Though tonight's kiss is somewhat different. If anything, it's even more charged. More sure of herself.

Her lips detach from yours and she quickly uses her nose to nudge your face to the side, exposing your neck. She leaves no surface untouched. Your jawline, your pulse point, even the shell of your ear gets a little bit of attention.

You writhe beneath her, your breath getting more shallow as you shamelessly roll your hips. Desperate for more friction.

You hadn't even realized that her hand has moved until you feel it at the top of your shorts. She slows her actions and looks at you again.

"I'm sure." Your hand finds the back of her neck, lightly caressing the skin there. "I'm so sure."

She smiles down at you, and with a gentle kiss to your lips, her hand slips under the material of your clothes.

"Oh my god, San." You whimper as her hand moves with ease to where you need to feel her the most. You're embarrassingly wet, and Santana's head moves to your neck as she lets out a moan herself. Although she most likely did that to suppress the sound from echoing in your cabin, hearing it so close to your ear only turns you on more.

She takes her time exploring you and you continue to move with the rhythm she sets, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from making to much noise. A mostly failed attempt because every time her finger slides against your most sensitive area, you let out a strangled moan.

"Santana..." Your hands gripping her back and fisting her hair, "Please, I need-"

She moves quickly, but with so much care, dipping lower until she's at your entrance. Teasingly, she pushes in a single finger agonizingly slow. You can't stop the moan that falls from your lips at the new sensation of being filled. She pulls out slightly and when she pushes in again, a second finger accompanies the first.

Your mind reels and your body takes over, moving your arm in a way that finds the drawstring of Santana's shorts. Her hand slows as she turns her head, pressing feather light kisses under your ear.

"Only if you want to."

"I want to. I need to feel you."

Her movements slow enough to allow you to mimic her earlier actions, slipping your hand inside and finding her just as worked up as you. It's slightly awkward at first but when your fingers brush her softly in a particular area and her body jolts, letting out a moan, you know you've found what you've been looking for.

This time she follows the pace that you set. And it surprises you that you've managed to set a pace because you don't know how you're even able to think with Santana moving inside of you like this. The sounds she's making give you confidence. When you move your fingers lower, Santana rolls her body into you.

"Fuck..." She lets out a strangled moan into your shoulder. "F-fuck me, Britt."

You shouldn't be turned on by the fact that she swore -you always scold her when she does- but right now that was quite possibly the sexiest thing that you've ever heard in your life.

You moan with her as you slide a finger in, same as she did, and she arches her back in response. She feels so good and you try your best to copy the movements of what she's doing to you.

"Two, baby. Use two fingers." Santana pants and you comply to her request, sliding in a second finger.

She picks up speed again and you move along with her. She sits up, riding your fingers and you've honestly never hated the invention of t-shirts more than you do right now because that's the only thing that's stopping you from seeing all of her. You wish you could see all of her like this.

But still, the sight of her in this position, eyes hooded and breathy pants, her body rolling in tune with your hips, it's more than what you could've ever fantasized about.

You start to feel like you're about to explode and your rhythm breaks, body writhing. Santana notices and moves quickly from her position to push your shirt up and she leans down, attaching her mouth to your already taut nipple, flicking her tongue every few seconds.

You lose control, trying your best to keep the movements of your fingers inside of her but you're not experienced enough. You can't keep your focus on her release when she's making you feel this good.

"Let go, baby. It's okay." She mumbles into your skin, her eyes looking up at you. With the hand between your thighs, she uses her thumb to lightly rub your most sensitive area, and with that your body tenses momentarily before snapping like a bow and your orgasm hits you full force.

Sounds of strangled moans and gasps for air fill the cabin as Santana lets you ride it out on her fingers, bringing you down gently. Lost in the moment, your fingers have left the warmth of Santana's center, but the way she's kissing you softly tells you she doesn't seem to mind.

"You're so beautiful, Brittany." Santana smiles down at you and you blush, embarrassed that you couldn't keep up with her. Almost teasingly, she watches your face as she slowly removes her fingers from inside you and it feels like ecstasy, a strangled moan escaping from your lips.

She giggles at your reaction and you smile lazily, still trying to catch your breath, "Give me like... two minutes and I swear I'll return the favor."

"I'll hold you to that." She laughs, collapsing to the side of you and kisses your cheek. "But really? Only two minutes? Give me more credit than that."

"Fine, _three_ minutes then." You smirk and she smiles at you, rolling her eyes.

In reality it took you more than three minutes. But as soon as you found your strength, you didn't hesitate to show Santana how much you meant your words. Not wanting to make the same mistake, you rid yourselves of both your clothes, so that you're finally able to appreciate all of her.

She walked you through most of it, telling you what she likes and if you're doing it right. It didn't take you long to learn how to read her reactions and tune your body to them. Every gasp, every moan.

The way she clung to you, almost as if she thought she might float away, her nails bit at your skin and her teeth bit at your lips, your shoulder, your neck. Everything she did to you told you that you were on the right track. What surprised you the most though, was that you were the one touching her and it was almost as if you felt it too. You've never experienced pleasure like that. You never want to experience it with anyone but her.

Eventually, after one last round to prove that you can in fact keep up, Santana falls asleep cuddling you at your side. With soft lips to your shoulder, legs tangled in yours, and her arm draped over your chest, you stroke the skin of her back softly as you listen to her breathe peacefully.


	14. Questions

_**Chapter 14: Questions**_

Thoughts of the future flood your mind.

Thoughts of a future, with Santana _permanently_ in it, flood your mind.

Some nights you'll lay awake and wonder if this is really it for you. If maybe Santana truly is your 'happily ever after'. You're mind takes on new life again, reeling and wandering and you can't help but think about the fact that no _real_ future can start with Santana until you come clean. Until you show your whole true self to the world.

But if you're being honest, the past six months with Santana have been the most wonderful whirlwind. You've never been so happy and it's not hard to miss the change in you. You're practically radiating with glee and people are starting to take note.

Which absolutely terrifies you.

The first big scare comes a little more than a month after camp.

It's late and you ended up staying behind at the school to finish prepping your final exams. Santana's probably still at the church, helping the seniors with the end of the year musical.

Since getting closer with the student worship team, Santana's spent a lot of time with them preparing for the big day. Rehearsal after rehearsal, you would spend most nights in the audience, watching as she coaches them.

Tonight though, you're late as you walk into the auditorium doors, the lights are dim and it looks as if everyone had already left. You almost turn around to leave but then you notice two figures sitting by the instruments. You walk up slowly, not quite sure as to why Santana and Sunshine would be sitting there alone.

Silently, you duck by the nearest wall in an attempt to hide yourself from them. They're backs are toward you and you can barely make out their voices.

"What are you trying to say, Sunshine?" Santana's voice is soft. Most notably though, it's _careful_. Like how she used to be.

"I'm trying to say that I know." The younger girl answers quietly, almost unsure. You feel your chest tighten slightly as she continues, " _I know_ , Ms. Lopez. About you and Ms. Pierce."

You have to strain your ears to listen for Santana's response but it never comes. You don't know if you should step in or not but you can't bear the thought of your girlfriend handling this on her own. Deciding to move from your spot, you step closer to them. When they finally feel your presence, they turn to you and their eyes widen.

"Britt…" Santana shakes her head from her thoughts, "Sunshine just-" She attempts to fake a laugh, "She just told me she thought-"

"I heard." You try to calm her nerves with a playful smile and an amused laugh of your own but it doesn't work. You know her mind has already gone to the worst-case scenario. "Sunshine, I don't know why-"

"No, no wait, you don't understand." Sunshine interrupts you, her eyes suddenly watering, "I-I just thought you might be able to help me. Please, I just need someone to talk to." Her tears openly falling now and the sight makes your heart ache for her.

At that, Santana turns to her student, her protective instincts seemingly kick in and her aura changes, "Wait, what do you mean? What's going on, Sunshine?".

As Sunshine tries to calm her breathing, you take the seat next to her and glance up to Santana for guidance. Santana doesn't look at you though, her eyebrows knitted in concern as she watches Sunshine compose herself.

"I thought maybe since you both… I don't know. Please, don't be mad at me. I don't know who to trust or who to talk to."

"We're not mad at you, hun. You can talk to us." You try to offer and Santana finally tears her eyes away to meet your eyes. There's something about the way she looks at you though. It's as if she already knows something that you haven't figured out yet. And you can't place it, but you think you see it deep in Santana's eyes. Like an old enemy that's come back in the worst way.

"Sunshine, how long have you felt like this?" Santana turns to Sunshine again but the younger girl shakes her head.

"I'm not the same… _as you_. It's… _different_."

You can't help but tilt your head a little, unsure of what she's saying. At first you thought you had an idea but now...

"But I don't know," Sunshine wipes at the tears on her cheek, "It comes and goes. Some days, I'll wake up and I'll feel like I'm not in my own body. I don't know what to do anymore. It's like it's getting stronger and I know it's wrong. I feel _wrong_."

 _Oh._

"It's not." Santana says quickly, shaking her head. "There's nothing wrong with the way you feel. Whatever _feels_ right for you, _is_ right for you."

"I used to pray for it to go away." Sunshine looks down, ashamed. "I kept telling myself that I'll grow out of it. But then sometimes I'll find myself thinking I'm so close to getting out of here. In a few months I can leave and never come back and no one will know who I am or who I become."

You sit there and look at Santana because you don't know what to say or do. This is completely new territory for you. There's nothing you can do but sit there and listen.

"But then I'll think about how much I love God." Sunshine continues, "And I believe in him, you know? How did you do it?" She suddenly looks at you, new tears forming quickly. "How did you learn to accept yourself knowing that God will never accept you?"

Her question catches you off guard and all air leaves your lungs. This whole time, that thought has never fully crossed your mind. Sure you've thought long and hard about the church not accepting it, or the school, and even your parents, but never _God_. Never before did you question God's love for you.

"Sunshine, listen to me," Santana speaks up when you fail to, "God accepts you. I need you to hear that, okay? He's a loving God and he _loves_ you. So _so_ much, sweetie. No matter what we _do_ , or who we _love_ , or who we _are_ , he will _never_ stop loving us." Santana's voice cracks and her eyes become glossy.

Your chest aches again, no longer at the sight before you but from the words Santana spoke. You try to absorb it but it just floats there, or near you, or above you. It doesn't reach your heart. Ever since you were a child you've been told time and time again that God will love you no matter what, but for some reason, right now, it's like a curtain's been pulled back and the first seed of doubt takes root.

You realize you've been going on as if your relationship with Santana and your relationship with God were two separate things. Never touching. Never meeting.

How naive.

"It took a long time for me to understand God's love for me but please trust me when I say, it gets better. I promise you, Sunshine. It _definitely_ gets better." Santana smiles, a genuine smile, and her eyes look to yours again. But when she finds you, her expression falters slightly.

It's obvious and you know it. You've never been good at hiding your emotions. Just like the smiles on your lips, you can't hide the doubt in your eyes.

Santana turns her attention back to Sunshine and takes charge as they talk about some of the resources that are available to her. Together they look up a few websites, Santana even bookmarking some of them onto Sunshine's phone browser for her.

Before Sunshine leaves, Santana promises to check up on her from time to time, but only if she's comfortable with that. She also reminds her, for probably the fifteenth time, that God does in fact _love_ her.

Once she's gone and you're alone with Santana in the auditorium, she turns to you, exhaling. "Britt-"

"It was nothing." You shake your head, pushing down your thoughts. You can't do this again. You can't let your mind do this to you. To Santana.

"Britt," Santana reaches for your hand and you flinch, "Don't hide from me, please."

"I-I'm not." You can't even look her in the eye and it hurts your heart, "Can we just move past this. _Please_." You're desperate. You don't want to disappoint her because you've worked so hard to get to where you are. You just need some time to get over this. Everything is fine.

Santana's eyes turn soft, and _careful_. "Okay." She sighs dejectedly, "But sooner or later, we're going to have to talk about it."

She's not going to let it go. You already knew she wouldn't but at least for now, she's letting you off easy. She allowing you space. You hope that's all you need.

* * *

You slowly begin to pull back.

Santana definitely notices because her eyes have become careful again, and every time you notice them you hate yourself a little more. When you're in public, it's not the same as it used to be and when you're alone you do your best in reassuring her that there's nothing wrong.

But then the second big scare happens a week before opening night. In the days between, Santana and Sunshine have had a few more 'meetings' in the auditorium after rehearsal.

Santana doesn't relay much to you, which if you're being honest, you're kind of grateful for. It would only bring up what happened that night and even though you've seemingly managed to push down all stray feelings of doubt since then, you don't want _that_ particular issue to come up again.

That is until Sue calls you into her office at lunch for a _quick chat_.

"You wanted to see me?" Your knuckles rapt at the wood of Sue's door and the older woman looks up from above the glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

"Pierce, yes. Come in." She motions to the exercise ball in front of her desk and resumes scribbling some notes on the papers in front of her. When you take your first step inside, she calls out a quick, "And close the door."

Hesitantly, you do as you're told and assume a seated position on the bouncy ball. "I feel like I've been called to the Principal's office." You try to joke but Sue's eyes glance up with all seriousness.

"You _have_ been called to the Principal's office, Brittany. I _am_ the Principal."

"No, I know. I just meant-" You sigh, "Never mind."

Sue studies you carefully, causing you to shift uncomfortably under her unreadable glare. You're not sure why she wanted to talk to you but seeing as she's never done this to you before, you know it can't be good. She turns back to her papers, jots one last thing down before closing it and setting it aside.

"Pierce, some of the teachers have been coming to me in the past few weeks." She looks at you, eyes still studying, still searching. "They had some things to say about Santana."

Your eyes widen and you know she noticed it so you clear your throat. "What does this have to do with me?"

The pause before she speaks is too long and the silence settles deep in the pit of your stomach. "Some of them expressed a few… _concerns_." She reaches into her desk and pulls out another folder, her fingers lightly tapping at the cover. "Concerns about you as well."

"M-me? What did I do?" You attempt to clear your throat again, but it's suddenly dry and feels like it's closing with each passing second.

"Look, I'm not going to waste my time beating around the bush. I just need to know if this is something I need to get ahead of."

You can only blink back at her, not knowing what to say. A chill runs down your spine, causing you to shiver slightly.

" _Is_ this something I need to get ahead of?" She repeats, her eyes as piercing as her tone is stern.

You somehow manage to at least fake a laugh, "I really don't know what you're talking about."

She sighs, "You should know that as reigning Principal, it's part of my job to know exactly who we hire here. And, if I do my job right, there's no such thing as _secrets_. No matter how long ago or how far away." She glances at the folder in front of her, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

You don't move a muscle. You don't dare give her any reaction in fear that she'll be able to read you like a book. _She knew_. She knew this whole time about Santana's past and whatever is in that folder is what Santana told you that day in chapel.

"And I'm not the only one that knows." Sue continues, "I gave Whitney a copy back when we were still considering Santana for the position."

"My mom knows?" Your eyes widen, and with that you basically confirm your own knowledge of Santana's past. "Does that mean my dad knows, too?"

"I don't know what she did with the information, Brittany. All I know is she was hesitant at first but you know how she is. She gets a little too protective for her own good. But now that people are starting to talk, I just wanted to check in with you first. Before things got out of hand."

Your mind is racing, going a million miles a minute and your having trouble keeping track of your thoughts. What exactly is in that folder? How much do they actually know? How did she get it and how biased is it? You feel like crying. Or screaming. You can't believe this. This isn't fair.

"So who was it?" You finally ask, not caring about the tone in your voice, "Which teachers said something?"

"You're not denying it, then?"

"It was Emma wasn't it? Who knows what other crazy ideas she's come up with in that crazy mind of hers."

"Actually, it was more than one teacher. And from what I've personally observed, it's not hard to see how they all came to the same conclusion."

"Well, it's not true." You shake your head, trying your best to hold it together.

"Britt-"

"Actually no, you know what?" You cut her off, the harshness of your voice surprising the both of you but you continue, "Why is it anyone's business, anyways? Santana's already been through so much." You point to the folder in her hands, "Does your files tell you how hurt she was? How completely _broken_ that left her? It's not right."

"No, it's not, but-"

"Then why can't people just mind their own damn business? No one talks about Will and Emma's weird and uncomfortable relationship because we all know they love each other and that's all that matters. How is this any different? After everything, doesn't Santana deserve at least that? Doesn't she deserve happiness like everyone else?"

You have to take a steadying breath because now you're on the verge of tears. You straighten your back and hold Sue's stare. If the goal was to deny the relationship, you're obviously failing. After a beat, Sue softens and the sight makes you even more emotional. There's no use in holding it back anymore.

"You love her then?"

"So much," a tear escapes, "And she makes me _happy_ , Sue. Like I've never been before."

How many times have you thought about what it would feel like to finally be able to share that with someone. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. And for Sue to the be first person to know, you definitely didn't see that coming.

Sue's known you for so long and she's never treated you with gloves. She never cared about the fact that you're technically her boss's daughter and she never babied you. There was no such thing as special treatment when it came to Sue and as crazy as that sounds, it's what made you respect her even more.

But now, with the way she's looking at you as you wipe away your tears, you know she cares about you like she would a niece, or even a daughter.

"Look kid, I'm not saying you can't be happy, just…just be more careful, okay?"

Taking a few calming breaths, you watch as Sue puts Santana's folder back into her desk. She excuses you as soon as you gather yourself and you dodge all questioning looks as you make your way back to your classroom.

"Britt?" Santana stands to her feet as soon as you walk in and you shut the door behind you, not caring that the action is the exact opposite of 'being more careful'.

"Sue knows." You tell her quickly, glancing at the clock, knowing you only have a limited amount of time before lunch ends and your next class starts. Her eyes widen in shock and before she has a chance to say anything, "She knows about what happened in Ohio and us. She knows about _us_ , Santana."

Santana stays quiet. Like she's thumbing through all the options in her brain and trying to figure out the best possible way to handle this. She turns away and begins pacing back and forth, mumbling incoherently and if you weren't just as freaked out, you'd probably find it cute.

"But she told us to be more careful." You try to tell her, hoping that it would be enough to calm her mile-a-minute mind.

She stops pacing and her eyes find yours, a glimmer of hope. "Okay. Okay, that's good right? That means it's not an issue. We don't have to worry."

You want to be hopeful with her but you can't. And you know the next thing you say is going to spin her into another rambling state.

"Sue's not the one I'm worried about though." You state and watch as her face falls, "It's my mom."

"Your mom? Why would we have to worry about your mom?"

"Because she knows about Ohio, too."

* * *

You leave as soon as school lets out for the day. Now that things are coming to light, you need to clear things with your mom before it's too late. You need to address it now before it gets worse.

Putting your car in park, you take a deep breath and look out the window to your parents' house. Your father should still be at the church so that means you only have a few hours until he's driving into the garage.

You'll need to leave before then. You don't know if you can have this conversation with him yet because your not sure how he's going to react to something like this and if you're being honest, you're kind of hoping to keep this secret from him for just a little while longer.

By the time you get to the door, your nerves are at an all time high. Checking your phone one last time, you stare at the text Santana sent just as you were leaving the school.

 _San: I love you._

The two of you came up with the plan together during the last few minutes of lunch and she must've known you would need the extra encouragement. She loves you. And you love her. That's all that matters right now.

"Britt?" The front door suddenly opens and you're meet with the surprising sight of your father.

"Dad? What are you doing home? I thought you would be working?"

"Stayed home today." He says, wiggling his eyebrows, "I'm playing hooky. Don't tell the elders."

You smile at his charm, rolling your eyes, "It's _your_ church, doesn't that mean you can do whatever you want?"

"Try tell that to the elders." He laughs, opening the door further for you to walk in, "If you're looking for your mother she's not here. Something about a last minute meeting with Sue at the school."

Pausing mid-step, you turn around slowly to face your father. "Did she say why she's meeting with Sue?"

His eyes turn questioning, "I don't think it's about you, babygirl. It was something with one of the students. Apparently one of her parent's approached your mother at the grocery store. I think she said the student's name was something like… Skylight? Or moonbeam, maybe?"

"Sunshine?"

"Yes! That's the one!"

"Shit." You mumble under your breath as you pull out your phone to send a quick text to Santana. "Did she mention what they were going to talk about?"

"There were concerns about what their daughter was being taught at the school…" His voice turns quiet as he watches you type away at your phone. "Brittany, is something going on?"

Looking at him, you find concerned eyes. You don't know what to do but you do know it's not your place to tell him about Sunshine. "I can't tell you, dad. I'm sorry."

"But this somehow involves Santana?" He asks and your eyes widen, "She's one of Sunshine's teachers, right?"

"Santana's helping her work through some things, right now. I just don't want mom asking too many questions."

"Because of your relationship with Santana?"

"W-what?" You choke a little and laugh awkwardly to cover it up, "Oh, because we're friends?"

He's doesn't fall for it though and sighs, the disappointment easy to read on his features, "I know I may be a little slow at times, but I'm not _blind_ , Brittany. It's obvious you've become close with her. More than you would an _ordinary friend_."

Oh god, this is really happening. And there's no way out of it. You close your eyes in an attempt to gain a little bit of composure back but even then it still feels as if the walls of your childhood home are closing in around you. It's getting harder to breathe.

"Hey wait, I'm not mad." He moves, placing his hands on your shoulders, trying to relax you. "Maybe a little hurt, sure, but I'm not mad. You could've told us. Or at least… me."

"I'm so sorry, dad." Your vision blurs and you realize you're already at the verge of tears. He frowns at that a little before pulling you in for a hug and you hold on to him, surprised at his reaction. It's comforting in a way that keeps you from bursting into tears. "I was just too scared."

"Of me?"

You nod into his shoulder and he tightens his hold on you, "You always talk about the _future of this family_ and now I've gone and messed it all up. I didn't want to let you down."

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes clear and sincere, "Two things you can always count on with your old man, babygirl. I'll _always_ love you know matter what, and you could _never_ let me down."

"But Santana… She's-" You shake your head, "I'm pretty sure she doesn't fit in with your vision of the future."

"Hey now, didn't I tell you when I met her that I liked her. That doesn't change. Yeah, it's going to take some getting used to, but so what if she's not exactly who I imagined you'd find happiness with. Plus, I see her in the audience on Sunday sometimes so at least I know she's a believer."

He ducks his head to meet your eyes again and you look back, hopeful. "So… you don't care?"

"That she's a _she_?" He asks and you nod your head . "My vision of your future wasn't about who you end up with, it's more about the hope that you're _happy_ with who you end up with. That's all that matters to me."

You crack a smile at his words and he easily flashes one back at you. It's funny, you may not be related by blood but somehow, God made it so that you share the same smile.

But, it's only a momentary pause in tension before your thoughts falls to another corner of your mind and your heartbeat quickens.

"Dad," You pause, knowing fully that this isn't exactly the right time to go into this but you can't help it, you need to know, "Do you think it's a sin?"

He must've expected your question because he didn't seem surprised by it but as you wait for his answer, he takes a steadying breath, "Honestly, I don't know what to think about that just yet. But I've been praying and asking God for enlightenment for some time now. I can say that I'm willing to open my heart and learn, though."

He's trying. Which, if going by Santana's experience, is better than what most people get.

You feel foolish even asking the next question but you've already opened the door and you can't stop yourself. It may even be childish but something in you needs to hear it. Something in you needs to hear it in his voice. You soften, embarrassed at you own absurd thoughts, "Do you think God still loves me?"

You barely can finish your question before you're breaking down, crying at the realization that you've never said it out loud. You've never given a voice to the doubts in your head and now that you have, all of your bottled up feelings are pouring out of you at once.

"Oh honey," He wipes at the trail of tears along your cheeks but he can't keep up, the tears keep coming, "Of course he does. He loves you no matter what, you know that."

Needing to hug him, you move to cling to his shoulders and allow yourself to sob fully into his shoulder. Your whole life, your love for God has always been unmatched. And as sure as you are of your love for Santana, it scares you that you're not so sure anymore of God's love for you.

"I've been having these thoughts recently." You mumble, trying to control your breathing so that you can explain yourself, "I know he loves me but sometimes I'll get these nagging feelings that won't go away. But what if-" You take a shaky breath, "What if I have to choose between him and the love of my life?"

Your father doesn't reply right away and you can almost feel his thought process through the slight movements of his embrace. You think the hesitation is because you had just admitted to him that you love Santana and he's still processing that part of it. Eventually, you feel him sigh as he pulls away to look at you, "Have you told Santana about this?"

You duck your head in shame, "No. I've been kind of avoiding the topic."

"Well, maybe it's about time you talk to her then. But Britt," He wipes at your cheek one last time and moves some hair from your forehead, "I hope you know that if it comes down to it and she does ask you to choose, she's not _the one_. No one should ever ask that of you. Even if you think they're the great love of your life."

"I know, dad." You nod.

He kisses your forehead softly, "That's good to hear, babygirl."

You don't tell him that that's exactly what you're afraid of. Because right now, if it comes down to it, you know you would still pick Santana in a heartbeat.


	15. Faith

_**Chapter 15: Faith**_

After talking with your father, you drive back to the school, hoping that you'll catch her in time. You need to confront your mother before she can get to Santana. With the information your father gave you, it's obvious the cat's out of the bag. All you can do now is try to control how this goes down.

Not even bothering with the parking lot, you park your car right on the sidewalk. You'll deal with the ticket you're sure to get later.

As you push the front doors open, they feel heavier than usual and you push down the feeling of dread to the bottom of your gut. You shake the feeling off as best you can and make your way through the lifeless halls. Sue's office looks locked up and so does the rest of the admin offices. Realizing that your worst fears may already be happening, you rush straight to Santana's classroom, praying that your mother hasn't already gotten there first.

When you reach her doors and turn inside, the sight you're greeted with already tells you you're too late.

 _No._

"What are you doing?" Your voice is shaky and soft, and your eyes fall to her hands as she puts a few items into a cardboard box.

Unfazed at your sudden intrusion, she looks up as if it's obvious, "I'm packing my things."

 _No_.

You step inside and shake your head, not wanting to believe it. Before you can speak again she turns away and continues with her packing.

"Did you know Sunshine's parents literally fund the school's music program?" She scoffs, "And now the _elders_ -which by the way I had no idea those still existed- think it's for the best if I just quit before it gets any _worse_. Before it becomes some big scandal that your parents will have to deal with later."

 _No_.

"Santana, they can't do that. I'll talk to my mom. Sunshine is already graduating in a few weeks. Trust me, they'll get over it after a few months. You just gotta give them time to get over it."

"It's not just about Sunshine. It's about us, too. People are already starting to talk and your mom was very clear-"

"No." You finally say with a stern voice. You won't have it. You won't let this happen to her again. "We'll lie. We'll tell everyone that it's over. We can still make this work, Santana. Like Sue said, we just have to be more careful and maybe you won't have to leave the school."

"I don't think staying at GCA is even an option anymore, Britt." She sighs, finally looking at you and you can't read her expression. You realize it's because it's one you've never seen before. "Plus, I rather leave on my own terms than be fired. Sue said she'd still write me a great recommendation letter if I needed one."

"So then what? You'll go get another job somewhere else? We'll only see each other after school? On the weekends?"

She holds your eyes and you finally see an ounce of confliction within them. But she straightens her posture and just like that it's gone, "I'm moving back to New York. I already asked Kurt if I can use his spare bedroom while I get myself situated and I-"

"Wait, you're leaving _Indiana_?" You're nearly yelling now but you don't care. You have to turn away to let her words sink in but the only thing you can feel is your heart being ripped from your chest. You feel weak. Like there's nothing you can do to stop her. Her mind is made up, that much is clear. "W-what does that mean for us?"

"Britt," Her voice calls to you softly and like an idiot you turn back to her hoping to find _your_ Santana. But you're met with unchanged eyes, almost a stranger. "You have your whole life here."

"So?"

"What do you mean, _so_?" Santana jaw tenses, "It's not like they're trying to get rid of _you_. You're still loved. You still have support here."

"I don't care about any of that."

"Yes, you do." She shakes her head, turning away again and continuing to pack her personal items. How can she act like this? Why is she trying so hard to hide herself from you? This isn't her. This person standing before you is someone else, it has to be.

You take a step forward, eyes pleading, hoping that the sight will bring her back to you, "I'll prove it. I'll leave with you."

"Britt…"

"God dammit, Santana! Why are you doing this? Why won't you work with me?" You're so incredibly frustrated. _She's_ frustrating. "I won't lose you. I just won't. I'll leave it all behind. If you can do it then so can I."

Santana stops her movements but keeps her head down, her hands resting atop the cardboard edges of the box, "Britt, I'm not asking you to do that."

You roll your eyes, throwing your hands up in defeat, "Then what? What do you want from me? You want me to just stay here? You're really just gonna leave me behind and break my heart in the process? Look at you. You're not even trying, Santana."

"If you leave with me," Her eyes close for a moment, "I just... I can't handle you resenting me for that later."

"I won't." You try to tell her, "Santana, I would _never_ resent you."

"But you will." Her facade breaks with a crack in her voice and you feel your heart echo it. You're breaking and you can feel it happening with every shaky word that Santana speaks into existence. "Britt, you'll wake up one day and you'll feel it. You can leave your family and your church, but there's one thing you can't run away from and you know it."

"W-what are you saying?"

She turns to you with what little resolve she has left, "Look me in the eyes and tell me honestly that you don't think what we're doing is a sin." Her face softens and _your_ Santana returns. A sliver of hope. "Right now. Tell me right now that it's not a sin and I swear to god I'll run away with you. Wherever you want to go, we'll go together."

You pause. She's practically begging but the words she needs to hear are stuck in your throat, refusing to coming out. You open your mouth in an attempt to push them out but instead of words, tears begin to fall from your eyes and it's then that you see it. Helplessly you watch as her heart breaks behind her eyes.

"I won't come between you and your faith, Brittany. I just won't. I turned my back on God a long time ago because I thought he didn't love me as I am. But now, thanks to you and this place, I've found him again. I learned that he _does_ love me, completely and wholly. And for me and where I'm at in my faith, I _don't_ believe it's a sin anymore."

She takes a few steadying breaths and you can only stand there, painfully witnessing her failed attempts to fight back the tears that are already falling onto her cheeks.

"But Britt, for you, somewhere deep down in there, you still think it is. And that's okay. It's okay."

You shake your head, not wanting to believe anything she's saying but you already know she's right. She's so right and you hate yourself completely for it.

"Hey, it's okay." Santana steps forward and her hands hold you at your cheeks wiping away the tears as they fall, "Look at me, baby. I love you _so_ much. But right now, we're just going to have to agree to disagree. And maybe one day… one day you won't feel like this anymore, okay? When that happens, hopefully fate will lead us to each other again."

"Please," You choke out a sob and her hands continue to hold you there. "Please don't do this to me."

She kisses you softly and you don't even have the heart to kiss back. You want her to stay. You want to be with her while you figure this out but you know it wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right to do that to Santana and she knows it, too.

This is something you have to do on your own. This is between you and God, no one else.

"I was doing okay. This whole time, I thought I was doing okay."

"You were." She smiles softly, her thumb caressing your cheek gently, "But, sometimes these things just sneak up on us."

"I promised I wouldn't hurt you, Santana." New tears fall at the realization, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, baby. It's okay."

* * *

A goodbye you'll never forget.

It took everything in you to leave. It was too hard to watch her pack. Too hard for the both of you. You poured your hearts out and the tears were almost endless but it really became too much once you both realized she was almost done. You couldn't bear the thought of watching as she packed up the final few things that made the classroom _hers._

 _Your notes._ She saved it for last and when she turned to you, new tears were already in her eyes. If your heart wasn't already broken, it would've broken from just that sight.

She must've known that you couldn't stay to watch. Or maybe she didn't want you to. Either way, she moved toward you and embraced you one last time.

She was shaking, her arms holding you tightly like she knew it was the last time she'd be able to hold you. And honestly, if you don't figure things out, it probably will be. When she pulled away, her eyes were red, face flushed from crying, but she held your eyes as she whispered her final goodbye.

 _I will always love you the most._

* * *

It wasn't intentional, but you found yourself driving to your parent's house immediately after leaving the school. Probably because under _different_ circumstances, your mother would be the first person you'd confide in. She would be your shoulder to cry on.

But right now, you don't think you can even look at her.

When you finally work up the strength to get out of your car, you text your father to meet you outside and you sit at the bench on their porch.

Not long after you've made yourself comfortable, the front door swings open and your father walks out, "Your mother kind of filled me in." He takes a seat beside you and you pull your legs up to your chest. "I'm so sorry, babygirl."

"I can't believe mom would do agree to something like that."

"She does what she thinks is best." He tries to justify and your jaw tenses. His arm moves to hold you at his side and you lay your head on his shoulder. It was only a few hours ago that you told him you love Santana. Now, here you are, seeking comfort for your broken heart.

"Santana's leaving. She's leaving Indiana." You mumble, "And I would've left with her, you know. I would've left you all behind. But she… she broke up with me. It's over, dad."

It's a long pause before he speaks. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head. You don't think you're ready for that just yet. It's too fresh. "I just need to sit like this for a while. Is that okay?"

"Of course. But your mom might come looking for me though. I think I'm supposed to be stirring a pot on the stove."

You chuckle softly at that, taking comfort in knowing that you come first, even if that means burning down his kitchen. But then you think of your mother and you frown, "I don't know if I could ever forgive her, dad."

"You know she loves you, right?" He kisses your forehead softly and you nod.

"But that doesn't excuse what she did."

He hums, "No, it does not."

"Does she know how much this hurts?" You begin to tear up again but you quickly wipe your eyes, hoping that the action will somehow rid the pain from your heart as well. It obviously doesn't.

"I know you might not see this right now," He rubs at your arm and you allow a few tears to fall this time, "But everything she does, she does for you. She only wants the best for you, babygirl."

You choke out a sob, "How can you say that? After today, how can I possibly think that?"

" _God has a plan, Pierce, and that plan starts with us._ " He says as if he's reciting it. "That's what she said to me when she told me she wanted to foster you. When she wanted to adopt you she said that _God_ told her that you were meant to be with us. I knew it then and I know it now. Your mother would do everything in her power to keep you safe and happy."

"Look at me," You sit up and wipe at your checks, your eyes bloodshot and checks burned red, "Does this look _happy_ to you?"

Your father ducks his head and you almost feel bad for snapping at him but you're hurt he's defending her. You're hurt, but really you should've known he would take her side.

He doesn't push further and you know it's because he's treading unknown water. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

Just in that moment, your mother walks out carrying two bowls of your favorite ice cream and places them in your father's hands. She looks to you but you turn away. You can't. You feel betrayed and angry and right now you need more than an ice cream apology from her.

You hear her sigh before retreating back into the house.

"So," Your father clears his throat once you're alone again, "You really would've left us? You would've chosen Santana?" He frowns a little and you're caught off guard by his question, realizing he must be hurt from your confession earlier. Not only that but you know what he's implying.

You shake your head, "She didn't ask me to choose. But she wouldn't let me go with her."

"Why?"

"I-" You start to speak but your voice catches in your throat again, similar to when Santana asked you to say what she wanted to hear. The realization hits that your hurt and anger is misplaced because ultimately, the only person you can blame is yourself.

"Is it because of your faith?"

You nod silently.

"Because you still think it's a sin?" He asks, his natural intuition never failing.

"I don't exactly know _what_ I think."

"But you don't know it's _not_ a sin?"

You nod again and he hums. He's trying not to pry but he's obviously still curious.

"She asked me to say it wasn't but I couldn't." Your voice cracks, "I broke her heart, dad. She trusted me but I was too stupid. Too selfish. I thought I figured it all out but I obviously hadn't. How am I supposed move on from this?"

"It just takes time, babygirl." He holds you tighter, "These things just take time."

* * *

It takes less than a week for Santana to leave for New York and you fight with the thought of her not wanting to stick around for you because you know it's more than that. You know she still loves you but it wouldn't be fair to have her wait for you to figure yourself out.

And that's what scares you the most because, what if you never do?

At one point, you found yourself always driving an extra 15 minutes home, changing your route so that you can pass by Santana's house. Watching, day by day, as Santana's home slowly became occupied with new tenants. A perfectly ordinary family, with a dog even, and the only thing you can think of is how they're invading a space that doesn't belong to them.

Eventually, you reverted back to your normal route and instead focused your energies elsewhere. You combed through your entire home for everything and anything that may belong to Santana. Every time you would find something you would text it to her, asking if she wanted it back. To be perfectly honest, you'd mail a single hair tie if that meant some kind of interaction with her.

You were going insane. You knew you needed to move on but you thought that if you were sly enough, maybe she would at the very least open a line of communication and you two could try to cultivate some sort of friendship.

So many texts were sent to her.

None were responded to.

It's obvious that she's cutting things off on her end and you don't know what hurts you more, the fact that you're the one that caused this, or the fact that you had hoped to still remain friends.

It hurts like nothing you've ever felt before and the fact that she's hurting too doesn't make things easier. But as much as you want to give her that space to heal, you don't want to allow her the room to fall out of love with you. Which is, _again_ , selfish of you.

You hate this.

* * *

Praying doesn't help.

It only leads to more crying.

* * *

After another week of texting Santana only to be met with radio silence, you finally receive a single text from her.

 _San: Please, Britt. I need you to stop texting me. I can't handle it._

Her words break your heart all over again and you spend another week crying your eyes out because of it. You don't want things to end like this. You can't have the last interaction be one born from hurt but you also want to respect the boundary she so very clearly set.

So, you resist. Your finger hovers over the send button because you want to say it one last time but you know it will only do more harm that good. She already knows you love her.

That's why it hurts so much.

* * *

Two months. That's how long it took before you officially decided to store away the keyboard piano that Santana left in your living room. At first, you left it in its place, to serve as a constant reminder of Santana's absence. A constant reminder of the way she treated you. Like you were her whole world. A reminder of the birthday gift she had given you.

You thought it would help to see it, to remember that there's a reason why you feel the way you feel. That you should be working towards a goal to find your way back to her. To find a way to make things work out in your favor and finally make yourself whole again.

But it didn't help. If anything, it made things worse. You would sit at the piano some days and hover your fingertips over the keys, willing yourself to play the few songs that she's taught you but unable to actually do so.

It takes you two months to realize that the goal is not to get back to her. It can't be.

You need to focus. You need to zero in on the root of everything. The disappointment and self-hate, the pain you feel is not rooted in Santana's absence.

It's with _you_. It's with _God_. It's with your _faith_.

Santana was right. This is the one thing you can't run away from. Pushing everything down and bottling it up only leads to fracturing your relationship with God even more. It would've lead to resentment.

So, you store it all away. Her keyboard, her books, her clothes, and most importantly your birthday present. The only way out of this, is if you move on.

You _need_ to move on.

 _ **End of Act I**_

* * *

AN: Have faith, friends! I promised you all a happy ending and dang it that's what you're gonna get :)


	16. New York City

_**Act II**_

" _Can I make an observation?" He speaks up and you turn your head slightly from your laid out position on the couch to look at him. He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, "It's been over a month since we began these sessions and when we first started, you were a little... hostile. You definitely didn't trust that I wasn't going to hit you on the head with a bible."_

" _So sue me. I've got trust issues with therapists." You roll your eyes._

 _He smiles at that, "See but now that you've opened up more, I don't exactly see the whole 'self-destructive behavior' thing that you keep going on about."_

 _You laugh bitterly. Has he not been paying attention this whole time? Did he somehow forget about last week where you spent most of your session telling him about that one time - shortly after your breakup - where you locked yourself in your new apartment and attempted to bake blueberry breakfast cupcakes all day until you ended up crying yourself to sleep?_

 _Breakfast cupcakes are ruined for you, now. They only serve as reminders._

" _I mean sure, you engaged in a relationship with someone knowing that the probability of it going all wrong was exponentially higher than normal. And you basically put yourself in a place where you could very easily get hurt in the same way that scarred you all those years ago." He goes on and you look at him expectantly, "But, it sounds as if you actually came out on top in the end."_

" _Wanky."_

" _I'm serious, Santana." He laughs lightly, "I really think you did."_

" _How could you have possibly even come to that conclusion after everything I've told you?"_

" _Look at where you are now. You_ accepted _yourself. Through all of that, everything with Brittany, you came out of it truly accepting yourself. Your sexuality and your faith finally coexisting in harmony. That's something you had to really work for. Something that you had to build on your own and it shows because even when things ended with Brittany, that's the thing that held steady."_

" _I don't think I'm_ that _religious." You say, knowing that you still haven't found a home church here in New York City._

" _But your faith is still there. You're not a spiritual recluse anymore nor are you a Christian crusader. You've found your own comfort level. You've finally found what fits_ you _."_

 _He's right. You hate to admit it but he is. It's not like you haven't tried to find a church either. You just haven't found one that felt right. But you know you miss it. You miss hearing the word and even more so, you miss worship._

" _So, I'm good with God and I'm good with my sexuality. Self-love blah blah. That's your big observation?"_

" _Well actually, what I really I wanted to ask about is what was it that happened more recently." He says, quirking an eyebrow._

" _You lost me, glasses."_

" _Santana," He laughs, shaking his head like it's obvious, "It's been over two years since you ended things with Brittany. And you're only now starting therapy because of it. So what was it that changed recently that brought you into my office?"_

 _You blink back at him, like a deer in headlights._

" _It's just an observation." He shrugs, "And you don't have to tell me, but honestly I think it might help."_

 _You roll your head away and look back at the ceiling, sighing. He's right. Plus, you are paying him so really you might as well just come clean and tell him._

" _I saw her." You finally say. "She's here. In New York City. The reason I even sought out therapy was because I ran into her and now…" You shake your head, all of your feelings flooding into you at one time._

" _And now you're scared." He finishes knowingly._

" _Yeah," You nod your head in defeat. "I'm scared I'm gonna fuck it up again."_

" _Okay, good." He clicks his pen, readying himself, "Let's start from there, then."_

* * *

 _ **C**_ _ **hapter 16: New York City**_

Walking into the familiar building, you head straight to the 12th floor and make your way to Studio Room 1. Rachel called you in for a last minute session and you didn't even have to ask which room you needed to go to because she very annoyingly only chooses that one.

She even permanently affixed one of her gaudy gold stars to the door. That's how annoying she is about it.

Once you walk inside though, you're surprised to see a young black woman instead of your irritatingly loud jewish friend. You stop mid-step and look back at the door to make sure you didn't somehow forget how to navigate the halls of the place you've been spending most of your time these past two years.

After confirming to yourself that you are in fact at the correct room, you check the clock next, wondering if you're too early or possibly even too late.

"Don't worry, you're probably in the right place." The woman sitting on the couch laughs and you sigh in relief, checking the time again before glancing around the room and back out towards the hallway. "If you're looking for Rachel Berry, she's late."

"Honestly, I should've known." You shake your head and move further into the room, taking a seat at the console.

"So I take it she's always fashionably late to her own sessions?"

You raise an eyebrow as if it's obvious, "I'm pretty sure she held onto her surrogate's uterine walls until she was at least a week past her due date."

The woman laughs at that and you crack a smile. "She told me to meet her here but if you need to set up or something then go right ahead, I'm sure I'll be out of your hair soon. I'm Mercedes, by the way. Mercedes Jones."

"S." It's second nature by now, giving her the name you've been going by since moving back to the city. What can you say, you've got trust issues with people digging into your past.

"S?" She turns her head as if she's thinking it over, "You do keyboard work, right?"

"Bingo." You smirk, your reputation precedes you. "So tell me, Ms. Jones, why does the great and honorable Berry want to meet with you?"

"It's possible that she's pissed at me for sending her on a wild goose chase to track down someone that probably doesn't even exist."

"Taylor Swift?"

"What? No," Her eyes narrow, likely wondering if you're serious or not, but when you smirk again she chuckles. "Not Taylor Swift, no. This woman named Santana Lopez."

At your name you literally choke on the air you just inhaled and you start sputtering out incoherent words until Mercedes gets the hint and passes you a glass of water from a nearby table.

It's a long silent minute as you collect yourself, knowing that Mercedes is most likely already piecing two and two together.

"You're her, aren't you?" She says softly, "You're Santana Lopez."

You nod slowly, "Why are you trying to find me?"

"Oh wow, you really don't know." She sits up and clears her throat. " _Take Your Place_. It's been making the rounds in a lot of churches."

"My song?" It can't be. "Wait, where did you even… or, how did you even..."

You shake your head in an attempt to calm your mind. You never officially released that song. You've never even copyrighted it properly because it was never meant to become something that's just another generic track on a generic album. Plus, that song has been tucked away to the back of your sheet music and your mind. There's also only a handful of people that even know how to play it, let alone know the words, and those people are all probably still in… _that one city you refuse to talk about_.

So who's out there singing and playing your song without your permission? And how the hell did it reach all the way out here to New York City?

"You're fully credited as the songwriter by the way. But I always figured you've been turning down offers left and right for permission to record it officially.

"That's ridiculous..." You let out a shaky breath, still trying to process the new information. "Anyways, they won't be able to find me unless they know where to look."

"Oh trust, I know that." She laughs, "I've tried. Dang, Rachel Berry must be a fairy godmother or something."

Before you can ask more, the door swings open and Rachel saunters in like the diva she thinks she is. Or - you guess - like the fairy godmother she thinks she is.

"Santana! You made it!" Rachel practically yells, moving to hug you but you hold up your finger in warning.

"Berry, if you don't tell me what's going on, right now, I'm walking out of here."

Unfazed by your bark, Rachel easily moves on to greet the other woman in the room. "Mercedes, it's so nice to see you again. Clearly I've delivered," She smiles sweetly while motioning towards you, "I believe you owe me a feature, now?"

"I gotta hand it to you Rachel, I really didn't think you'd ever find her. And so soon after our conversation at that."

"It felt like just yesterday." The smaller girl preens.

"It _was_ just yesterday."

"For the love of god, can someone please enlighten me?" You roll your eyes, "Obviously whatever _this_ is, it involves _me_ somehow."

"San,"

"Don't." You bark back quickly. Rachel knows better than to call you that.

" _Santana_ ," She rolls her eyes, "Yesterday after my session, I was walking past the studio Mercedes happened to have booked and overheard the most wonderful voice. A little pitchy, but still, she definitely has potential."

Mercedes scoffs at that, "Yes Rachel, it was so nice meeting you. For the very first time... as you walked right into my sound booth… _while I was recording_."

"You are so very welcome, Mercedes. Most people become too starstruck when they meet their idols but you were a doll."

Mercedes looks at you with an expression that easily reads, ' _Is she serious?'_ and all you can do is shrug because _yes_ , _she is serious_.

"Anyways, I walked right in and we got to talking. Come to find out, Mercedes here is working on her first Christian gospel album. So naturally I offered my services to be featured."

"Rachel, you're not even a Christian." You shake your head at her. She can't be serious.

"I'm _Jewish_ , we basically share the same God." She rebuts and you turn to Mercedes, hoping she'll back you up.

"Don't look at me, that's exactly what she told me yesterday."

"Oh my god, just finish this damn story already." You raise your voice, clearly getting more agitated.

"I just thought that with my star power, it could really elevate Mercedes. Get her some much needed exposure. Plus, once she makes it big, I get the extra credit for working with up and coming artist. The nobodies. I mean I basically discovered her."

" _Basically_ she was rude as hell." Mercedes scoffs, then looks at you. "Look, I'm gonna be straight with you, I only had that room booked for two hours and I needed her to leave asap. So I told her I'd accept on one condition and since I thought you were a ghost, she had to find _Santana Lopez_ and get her to record _Take Your Place_ with me for the album."

"Which, as soon as I heard your name, I knew it had to be you, Santana." Rachel smiles proudly, "You know, since that whole thing in India-"

"No." You shake your head. You don't want to hear any more of this nonsense. You've already made your decision. "No. I won't do it."

"Santana…"

"I said _no_ , Rachel."

"S, I'm really sorry." Mercedes looks apologetically at you, "Honestly, you don't have to do this. I swear I really didn't think she'd actually find you. I had no idea she already knew who you were."

"Well luckily enough, you'll get to know each other, too. I already spoke to the studio and Santana is officially assigned to work on your album." Rachel chances a glance to you, already knowing you won't take that piece of information well.

"Hold up, what now?" This time it's Mercedes holding her finger up, "I already hired a piano guy. _And_ _paid him._ "

"Already taken care of."

"You can't be serious." You ask incredulously, "I had a full schedule. You can't just do that."

Rachel shrugs, "You already finished the tracks I need for now. And I'll save the power ballads for the end so I won't need you on my service for a while."

"So what, I'm supposed to just sign my song over just like that?"

"No Santana, I would never ask you to do that," Mercedes chimes in, "I honestly had no idea this is what she had planned."

"What the hell, Rachel?" You stand up suddenly, needing to feel the ground beneath your feet. It doesn't help that you know it's not the ground and that you're actually in a building 12 stories up.

"I just want you to work with her, Santana." Rachel moves slowly to stand in front of you, her voice low and soft, "We both know you needed something like this. And, I know you want to. At least _try_ it? It might help. You've been so down the past two years. A gospel album might just be thing that picks you up."

You look into her eyes and you know she means well. You know she's trying to get you out of your shell again. She really is a good friend to you but it's stunts like this that really make you question her sanity.

"Okay," You exhale slowly, "I'll work with her. But it's still a 'no' for the song. I can't do the song. It just wouldn't feel right."

"That's fine, then. Just work on her album. No song." Rachel turns back to Mercedes for confirmation and she nods.

You take a calming breath, "Alright fine. Let's do this."

* * *

Mercedes' music is _different_. It's not the usual Christian pop shit that you initially expected from her, but actually really heartfelt and well thought-out pieces. And as much as you want to be bitter for getting forced into doing this, at the same time you're actually kind of into it.

It takes you until the third session with Mercedes for you to finally ask the one thing that's been on your mind.

"If you don't mind me asking," You swivel in your chair during lunch one day, "How did you come to hear my song?"

Mercedes only smiles coyly, "I was probably one of the first to hear it actually. I think that's why I'm so attached to it."

"One of the first?" You're so confused. What does that even mean? "Who showed it to you?"

She doesn't respond right away. Instead, she puts down her fork and looks you straight in the eye, "A student of yours. From Indiana."

Your jaw tightens at her mention of... _that place,_ and Mercedes notices.

"It's really helped people through some tough times, Santana. You should embrace it. Be more proud of it."

"I _am_ proud of it." You snap, "It just… reminds me of too much."

It's not that you've regressed. You still very much love yourself and are more comfortable with who you are than you've ever been. And although your relationship with God isn't what it was two years ago, at least you're not as jaded in the way you once were.

"Do you still go to church?"

You shake your head, "Sometimes I'll go to a random one just for praise and worship. And I know it's totally ridiculous but even here, in New York City, I still feel like I stick out like a sore thumb."

"Because of the whole lesbian thing?"

"Oh my god, do I smell like a golf course or something?" You gasp and Mercedes laughs lightly. "I know it's silly. If being out is my big hang up then this city _should_ be where I feel most comfortable. But I don't know. I think some part of me thinks I'll still be judged by others because of it.

"You should try my church. Seriously. I can one hundred percent tell you we don't care about any of that."

You don't answer her and just let her words float in the air. It has been a while since you've tried a new church. And if you're being honest, you have been missing the word. But you'll have to get back to her on that. At least for now.

"You're incredibly talented, Santana. You could very easily be working on your own album, you know." Mercedes changes the subject and you're grateful. "Honestly, I wouldn't be opposed to featuring _you_ on this album, as well."

"Oh negative." You laugh, "I have too much anxiety for the limelight."

"I hardly think making it big in the 'Contemporary Christian' music genre is what's considered _limelight_."

"A light is a light. Anyways, I prefer more of the background work. It suits my brooding style." You narrow your eyes playfully and she laughs.

"Well, you're definitely good at it. You've got quite the reputation as a studio musician."

You scoff, "Only because Berry won't leave me the hell alone. She'll record a studio version of literally every song she's ever sung and most of the time, they're power ballads with heavy piano or keyboard tracks."

"That's insane. She's insane."

"Yeah," You chuckle, knowing that's the understatement of the century. "But on the bright side the studio pays me by the hour and we all know how much of a diva she is. Always late, always wanting multiple takes. Plus, she always tells other artists to request for me."

"So, basically you're rolling in studio musician dough."

"Yeah, basically."

"She's a good friend. You're lucky to have her."

"Yeah," You roll your eyes, smiling with Mercedes "I'd never admit that to her, though."

* * *

By the fifth session, you've gotten a lot more comfortable with Mercedes. You've even helped her rework some of the sheet music for a few of her songs.

You're sitting at the piano in the recording booth, ready to play the next track that you've rewritten, when Mercedes voice floats into the headphones. "Thanks again for doing this, Santana. I don't have a crazy huge budget like Rachel, so I'm grateful to even get to work with you."

You smile at her, and take the compliment.

"Trust me, I'd rather be playing to the sound of your voice than Rachel's. You're doing _me_ a favor."

You watch from the other side of the glass as Mercedes laughs. You like her. She's like a breath of fresh air and honestly, listening to her music this whole time has made you seriously consider her offer to visit her church. If they're anything like her, you definitely won't feel like you don't belong.

When you arrived for today's session, she asked if you wanted to stop by at her place after. Something about a handful of people from her church coming over for dinner and it'll be a good opportunity to meet a few of them. Outside of the church with no pressure.

You told her you'd think about it because there's no way you'd be able to focus on playing anything properly if your freaking out about meeting new people later today.

Once you finish the track, you leave the booth to listen to the playback with Mercedes but to your surprise, there's someone sitting in your usual spot. A boy. Young, maybe a few years younger than Mercedes.

"Um?" You stutter in your step and Mercedes turns to you.

"Oh, sorry." She swats at him to stand, "He just got here. I hope you don't mind. I asked if he can stop by on his way home. I was hoping he'd be able to convince you to join us tonight."

"That's… weird." You arch an eyebrow and stand still as the short scrawny boy walks up to you with a wide smile.

"Ms. Lopez," He finally speaks and something about it gives you pause. "It's been a while."

He holds out his hand and tentatively, you shake it. He called you _Ms. Lopez_. There's no mistaking that. You don't recognize him as one of your students, but still, there's something _familiar_ about him.

He laughs knowingly, "It's me. Jake."

Jake. Jake… Jake. "Oh my god…" Your eyes immediately tear up and so does his. He told you all those years ago that he was thinking about that name as his true one. You can't believe it. You can't believe you're actually seeing _him_.

" _Jake_." You say his name and can't help but smile widely at how fitting it sounds, You hold him at arm's length, "Oh wow, look at you! Look at how handsome you are."

"Thank you, Miss." He blushes, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"How are you? Are you happy? You look happy."

"I am," He smiles, "Mercedes, takes good care of me."

"Oh. _Oh_." You look between the two of them, eyes widening slightly, "Are you two dating?"

"God no. He's like my little brother, Santana." She scrunches her face up in disgust and you watch as he sticks his tongue out at her.

"We're roommates." Jake explains, "And we both work part time at the church."

There it is. You get it now. Jake was the one that showed Mercedes your original song. He was the first to sing it, afterall.

"So," Mercedes smiles at you, "You'll join us for dinner tonight then?"

You laugh, knowing that there's no way you're not going to their stupid dinner now. Even though Jake is another reminder of your time in Indiana, you're so incredibly happy to see him again. You're happy to know that he's doing well for himself.

You just hope he knows enough to not ask about what happened.

* * *

It's not long before you're walking into Mercedes and Jake's apartment. It's cute, and actually very homey. You don't have many younger friends so you feel slightly dated but you hope you don't look it. Who are you kidding, you could never look it.

Besides, Mercedes is at least in her mid-twenties and you're barely thirty-two, so you can't think of yourself as _elderly_ just yet. You just can't stand next to Jake, he can't even legally drink yet and honestly that's just too insane to think about.

"This place is pretty big…" You look around and note the slightly larger than normal living space for an apartment in Bushwick. You're surprised because honestly, the place is really roomy for just two people and there's no way they can afford the rent here, especially if they only work part time a church.

"It's a perfect fit for the three of us." Mercedes smiles proudly.

"We have another roommate." Jake explains quickly and you nod, understanding that there's a third income to tie it all together. Someone that probably doesn't work part time at a church, you think. "You want the official house tour?"

You smile, motioning for him to lead the way as he shows you the living room, kitchen, and small balcony with a few planters with soil. He tells you they've tried growing plants at one point but nothing sprouted so now they just water the dirt for fun, hoping that _something_ will miraculously grow from it eventually.

When he walks you down the hallway to the bathroom, your eyes catch on something in one of the bedrooms.

There's no mistaking it. It's your keyboard. The one you lent to Brittany when she mentioned her interest in practicing more. The thought alone tricks your mind into thinking you can actually smell her again and you're thrown for a loop.

Did she give it to Jake to have? Did she not want anything that reminded her of you? She must've, you're staring right at it.

"Is this your room?" You breathe out, not looking away from the keyboard, "Why is this here?"

Jake doesn't respond. Or if he did, you didn't hear him because your mind has already taken over. He must've known it was yours when she gave it to him. She had to have told him. Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she just gave it to him without a second thought.

"Santana?" The sound of her voice pierces through your body and for a second you don't believe your ears but then, "Santana, what are you doing here?"

Your heart is beating so fast you'd think you just ran a marathon. There's no other way to describe what your feeling besides panic. But you focus on your breathing and you steel yourself, turning around slowly.

You take it all in. Her everything. Her eyes are bluer than ever and you have to fight the urge to smile just from seeing them for the first time in over two years. Her blonde hair is up and in a ponytail, a bag over her shoulder, and a suitcase at her feet.

"Brittany."

* * *

AN: I love you all so so so much. Thank you for believing in me and this story.


	17. Crossroads

AN: I'm know it's been too long but hopefully this is worth the wait. I'll be leaving for my honeymoon in like two days so my crazy busy season is almost done. Once I'm back I'll hopefully get back to writing more again. Thank you all again for being SO patient with me.

Happy New Year! May 2020 be kind to you.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 17: Crossroads**_

Things are definitely awkward.

Well, awkward might actually be an understatement for what's currently happening but you're still in shock so you're not really articulate enough to come up with a different word.

But what can you do except sit there on their couch - no, Brittany's couch - and watch as the three of them on their balcony on the other side of the glass door. Brittany seems to be the only one talking - very animatedly - as the other two look like they're trying _and failing_ to get a few words in.

Every few seconds one of them will glance inside and offer a polite smile and then go right back into their heated conversation.

So yeah. _Awkward_.

It's obvious she's scolding them. They blindsided the both of you and sure it wasn't right but at the same time… she's _here_. Brittany's right in front of you and you're not exactly _mad_ about it.

It's been more than two years of radio silence. Two years without seeing her smile or hearing her laugh. A lot has happened since and honestly you don't know if you want to hear what she's been up to because... you're scared. How many people have come into her life since you? Have many people have left it?

It's an anxious feeling you have, knowing that you'll soon find out.

But above all of that, you somehow feel a sense of happiness. Relief almost. She's okay. And from the looks of it, healthy. She's surrounded by people that aren't complete assholes and that thought alone helps with your anxiety.

The _unknown_ doesn't hurt anymore.

But Brittany might not be on the same page as you with how she feels seeing you again and the last thing you want to do is make her feel cornered.

So with a conflicted heart, you grab your bag and head for the door. As soon as you open the door you're met with another familiar blonde standing at the doorway and if you weren't thrown earlier, you definitely are now.

"What the hell-"

"Are you're just gonna stand there and stare, or can you at least grab this bottle of wine and make yourself useful?" She looks expectantly at you. You're still trying to piece everything together so your feet stay planted as she rolls her eyes and moves past you into the kitchen, "What are you even doing here anyways?"

"I-" You close the door in front of you and turn around, "Honestly, I'm not really sure."

She glances out to the balcony at the three arguing roommates and then looks back at you. "Already stirring up trouble I see?"

"Don't be such a bitch, Q. How do you even know that's because of me?"

"Because you're _you_ , S."

It's a staring contest and you're determined to win. You've worked with Quinn Fabray more than a few times now and truth be told she's pretty chill. You don't know much about her aside from the fact that she works billing at the studio and you have to fight with her every time there's a problem with your paycheck. Which is often enough that you've started bantering about how bad she is at her job.

"Wait, are you leaving?" Brittany's voice cuts through you again and you didn't even realize that the three of them came in from outside.

"Oh," You look between everyone, staring back at you expectantly, "I just thought… I don't know."

Brittany shakes her head, "No, I'm sorry, I was just caught off guard. You don't have to leave."

"Someone want to fill me in?" Quinn whispers toward the other two roommates but Mercedes hushes her quickly.

"Unless of course you don't want to stay." Brittany takes the smallest step back and her head hangs slightly, "I'll understand."

"I'll stay." You say quickly, pushing down the urge to step forward, "I-I want to stay."

Brittany looks at you and her eyes soften. You take the opportunity to really look at her. She's beautiful. Two years later, even in her comfy airport clothes, she's still the most beautiful person you've ever set your eyes on. You don't know if you're not supposed to think thoughts like that, but at this point you honestly don't care. She's here. Standing right in front of you, looking at you and you're mesmerized.

"Seriously, what is happening?" Quinn whispers again and Brittany turns a shade of pink before turning away from you.

"Alrighty then," Mercedes perks up and smiles at you, "Let's get dinner started!"

It's an awkward sort of shuffle because you're technically a guest but you still want to help. But Jake laughs at you and pulls you away from the kitchen, back into the living room.

"Come on, Miss Lopez, we still haven't gotten the chance to catch up yet."

"Jake, you can call me Santana. _Please_. You're boyband good looks and youthful skin complexion is offensive enough." You tell him and he laughs easily, agreeing.

Surprisingly enough, your conversation with Jake isn't exactly _catching up_. He doesn't talk much about the past. Well, the past you were expecting, at least. Mostly, you talk with him about his time in the city. He talks very animatedly about the lead pastor of their church, someone who took him under their wings and helped him tremendously during his transition.

Talking with Jake is oddly comforting. It almost makes you forget your surroundings. Almost. That is, until Brittany walks back in from her bedroom after taking a shower and you're immediately flushed red, you're sure of it. You try not to watch her walk through the living room but you fail miserably. When she catches your eyes, you turn away quickly.

"What happened?" Jake asks, once Brittany's out of earshot. "Sorry, I know it's none of my business, it's just…"

"She never told you?"

He shakes his head, "I know that keyboard is yours, though. So I figured there wasn't any bad blood."

It's a little weird, talking to a former student about this particular topic, but at least it's _someone_. Rachel and Kurt have tried to talk to you about it but you always refuse. They wouldn't have understood, anyways.

"It's thanks to her, by the way. The reason your song is still properly credited to you. Once it started picking up, she made it a point to get the word out that it's yours."

"God, my song. I never would've thought…"

"Yeah that's on me, sorry about that." He ducks his head, "I felt so connected to it that I couldn't help myself from sharing."

"No, no, it's okay." You don't have the heart to be mad at him. If your song helped him as much as it did you, then it was all worth it.

"Dinner's ready." Brittany comes up behind you and you can only freeze until she walks away again. It's weird not knowing how to act around her. You don't know her boundaries yet and even more so, you don't know your own.

"Just breathe, Santana. You'll be fine." Jake chuckles and you glare back at him.

The table is already set and you quickly take the end seat next to Mercedes, not wanting to chance someone else possibly sitting next to you. Someone like Brittany. You almost feel at ease but then Brittany takes the seat right across from you.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" She says softly, noticing the way you're shifting in your seat.

"Sit where you want. It's your house, Britt." You shrug, but then immediately realize your slip.

It doesn't go unnoticed, especially to the others at the table and suddenly all eyes are on the two of you. Brittany doesn't seem to mind the ease with which you used her nickname, and instead smiles shyly at you. You're blushing again and this time you're on display for everyone to see. _Why is this so hard?_

Brittany quickly realizes your discomfort and turns to the others, "Your food's getting cold."

They clear their throats in unison and return to their dinners, relieving you from your embarrassment. You eat quietly and listen as the others talk. It's only when Brittany starts talking about her trip that you notice the shiny piece of hardware sitting atop her ring finger and your heart drops unexpectedly.

"So LA is looking good then?" Quinn asks her suddenly, and your ears perk up, wanting to know more about what business she had in Los Angeles and why it would be _looking good_. A bachelorette party? A destination wedding? Maybe a honeymoon? Or even perhaps an anniversary celebration?

"Really good." Brittany nods, "I think we've got a good shot at this grant."

You exhale subtly, realizing it was a work trip, though your eyes are unable to leave the sight of that _rock_ on her hand.

"That's so awesome, Britt."

"You might actually get that budget you've been asking for." Brittany responds to Jake with the biggest smile.

"Well, if that's true then we need to celebrate!"

She laughs, shaking her head, "Never celebrate before the win, young one."

The others laugh along when Jake feigns offense and your eyes find Brittany's. Is she engaged? Already married? Does her husband live here too?

"So you work in grants now?" You attempt some form of small talk, trying to get your mind off that damn ring and she hums, nodding her head.

"For a non-profit, _Crossroads_."

 _Ah_. You grin at the vaguely familiar name, "A _religious_ non-profit. How very on-brand for you."

You're testing the waters. It's playful but not too much, enough to get her to raise an eyebrow and smirk, " _Yes_ , a _religious_ non-profit. Particularly for youth. _LGBT_ youth."

You're eyes widen and she chuckles before continuing, "I think we all know how hard of a struggle it is when faith is involved. Most people feel like their at a crossroads, identity or religion. See, the hardest part is in making that choice but really, you don't _have_ to choose. Your identity can exist _there_ , at that point. You can have both who you are and what you believe."

You're frozen, not knowing what to make of her words and she continues, holding your eyes, "Because it's _not_ wrong. It's _not_ a sin."

The way she says it does something to you. It almost hurts in a way to hear her say those four words, knowing that those were the very ones that left you brokenhearted. Or, at least, the _lack_ of those words did.

"I'm a part of their outreach team," Jake speaks up from the other end of the table, "Crossroads makes a real difference in people's lives, mine included."

"Hear hear." Brittany raises her glass, winking at the younger boy.

You have so many questions but you don't want to push it. Brittany and Jake have changed so much, but yet also not at all. The conversation moves on easily but you're thoughts definitely haven't.

Did Jake help Brittany come to terms with everything? Or were the roles reversed? Or maybe they helped each other? Does this mean Brittany no longer struggles with her sexuality and faith? Wait, then that means her significant other could very well be a _she_.

But then why would Mercedes and Jake trick you into coming here? There's no way they would intentionally hurt you like this, knowing as much as they do. At least you think they wouldn't. Unless, maybe they don't like the person and they secretly want you to swoop in and save the day. You shake your head quickly to try and rid yourself of those thoughts. You're getting ahead of yourself. You need to stop doing that.

"Hey," Brittany whispers and it snaps you back to reality, "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this." You say, mostly to yourself, "This was a mistake." You look at her and she frowns. From the lack of noise coming from the others at the table, you know everyone heard you too.

"Okay seriously, what in the world is going on?" Quinn asks and is quickly quieted by Mercedes and Jake.

Brittany watches you carefully and you shift in your seat again. You hands find your lap and you wipe your palms on your jeans. It's too awkward. The way she's looking at you makes you feel like you're under a spotlight. _This was a mistake._ You need to get out.

"Excuse us," Brittany stands suddenly, grabbing your arm and pulls you into her room. She shuts the door behind you quickly, effectively making you exponentially more nervous, your wrist still burning where she had just held you.

"Britt-" You shake your head, "Brittany, what are you doing?"

"I'll never forgive myself if I let you leave here without me saying this. Especially if I'm probably never going to see you again. So if you're gonna run out of here in a panic then," she takes a deep breath and you prepare yourself, "I'm so sorry, Santana. For everything."

You blink back at her, not knowing what to say to that.

"There. You can leave if you want to. I just figured you'd rather talk in private. But know that I am sorry. I really am."

You shake your head again, "You don't have to apologize to me. I understood then and I get it. I don't blame you for anything, Brittany."

"But _I_ do, though. I hurt you and I promised I'd never do that."

This conversation is too much for you to handle so you look away and your eyes fall on the keyboard beside you. You wonder how her significant other feels about your keyboard living in her room. You glance back at her hand and notice that her ring even sparkles in the low light of the room, making you sick.

"I know you can't trust me just yet," Brittany continues, "but I'd like it very much if you'd stay. I really do want to catch up."

"Brittany, I don't know…"

"So much has happened since-"

"Don't." You interrupt, closing your eyes, "Sorry. It's just- this is a lot right now."

You hear shuffling outside and you realize the other three must be standing right outside the door. Brittany seems to realize the same but doesn't move from her spot.

"I'm not married, by the way." She holds her left hand up, "I only wear it to stop the randoms from bothering me. It works for the most part."

"W-what are you talking about?"

"I know you noticed it, Santana." She chuckles knowingly.

"What? N-no I didn't even realize." You try to fake a laugh but it gets shot down by Jake's -you think though you're not entirely sure- half suppressed laugh on the other side of the door. So maybe you weren't as discreet as you thought.

"And I'm not seeing anyone, right now."

 _Oh my god, what is happening._

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

Brittany moves to sit at the edge of her bed and shrugs, "Just thought I'd throw it out there."

"Well, it's too much."

"Sorry."

"No, I just mean," You sigh, turning to face her, "What are we doing? What am I doing here?"

"I wasn't the one that invited you?" She scrunches her face in confusion and you roll your eyes because she looks so goddamn cute like that.

"I meant, what do you want me to do here? I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"I would say let's start over…" She pauses like she's thinking over her words, "But I don't want to start over if that means we'd have to forget everything that happened between us. I definitely don't want to do that."

"Britt-"

"Look, we can be friends, right? Is that so impossible? Would that be so bad?" She stands again and walks towards you. You feel like her prey. Like goddamn Daniel in the lion's den and you think about all those months you spent being her _friend_ before becoming something more.

"It's too risky." You hadn't intended to say it out loud but you did. Just barely above a whisper yet Brittany still caught it.

"I've really missed that." She smiles, her eyes softening slightly before taking a small step back again, "But I'm not going to force you, Santana. That's just where I stand."

She's so sure of her feelings and yet you can't seem to push aside the fact that she was _sure_ two years ago. But something about the way she's standing there, holding her hands behind her back, she looks so small. Almost cautious even and you realize this is just as much of a shock for her as it is for you. She's hopeful though, that much you can see in her eyes and you can't stand the thought of letting her down.

"Friends, huh?"

Her expression brightens, "Just friends. We can manage at least that."

Back then, when everything was still fresh, this is exactly what you wished for. You wished more than anything to be reunited again one day. To find each other again. To have a second chance. You just need to take that first step.

"Okay." You look at her and her smile widens, "I think I can do that."

"You think?"

"That's as close as you're gonna get, right now" You tell her honestly and she nods, her smile still present. She gets it. You know she does. She knows you better than you know yourself at times and she understands your need to be careful. The two of you stay like that for about a minute until she moves to the door, opening it and shooing the others back to their dinners. You chuckle when you hear a particularly loud grumble from Quinn.

"I'm also sorry that they're so annoying." Brittany turns back to you apologetically.

"It's fine." You laugh, waving your hand and walking back with her.

By the end of dinner you're brain is in information overload. You find out that Jake and Brittany connected after he moved to the city a little more than a year ago. He was originally a client at Crossroads looking for resources and shelter. Soon after getting situated, he joined the outreach team, going out and spreading the word about their programs and services. He wanted to do more to help others like him.

He and Mercedes of course met through the church. Crossroads listed it as one of the churches in the area that would welcome him with open arms. And with a trans pastor at its forefront, they definitely did just that. The two of them were the original roommates, sharing a small apartment, much smaller than this one, for nearly the same price.

Brittany joined the church per Jake's suggestion. Which happened to also coincide with them needing a new place to live due to rising rent and Brittany needing the extra money.

Quinn, surprisingly, isn't all that evil and works at the church too. She does part time work doing the books and making sure they have enough to float above water yet still care for their members. It's a small congregation, about two hundred or so members, give or take. They definitely don't make enough to pay the staff a living wage but they get by with what they have. And you already know where Quinn works full time, at the studio, messing up your billing hours.

"I can't believe you're _thee_ Santana Lopez this whole time and I never put two and two together." Quinn laughs. She's seen your name on paperwork more times than you've actually said it since moving back.

"Yeah well according to my paychecks, we all already knew Math isn't really a strength of yours, Q." You quip easily and Brittany nearly chokes on her food, trying not to laugh.

"Shut up. At this point, every time your name comes across my desk I only feel irritation. Mostly because of that annoying Rachel Berry. It's so hard to track down her paperwork. She's so sporadic."

"I thought she was Jewish?" Brittany asks confused and you chuckle. The others seem to be used to Brittany's one liners because no one addresses it and the conversation moves on easily.

For the most part you sit back and observe the group. You wouldn't think it, but they mesh really well together. It's a mix of sibling like banter with the occasional scolding from Brittany. They're close, you can tell that much.

There's still so much to learn about them all but you're already exhausted. Plus you probably should be heading home soon anyways. You excuse yourself to the restroom and on your way back you glance into Brittany's room one last time to really take it in. It's oddly familiar and somewhat comforting to see something so _Brittany_ again. Your eyes land on your keyboard again and you wonder if she's been practicing. You wonder if she thinks of you every time she plays.

"It's yours if you want it back. Jake tells me it's a pretty expensive model." Brittany appears beside you and you shake your head.

"No, it's all yours, Britt." There's a long pause and you don't even care that you used her nickname again. Technically you're friends again. Friends use nicknames.

"Will you play for me?"

Snapping your head up at her request, your heartbeat quickens and your breath hitches. But when she smiles playfully you know then that she was only joking. "Jesus, are you trying to kill me?"

"Just keeping things consistent with your experience with Math teachers." She grins and you can't help but laugh now. It's another pause before she yawns and you follow suit.

"I should go. It's getting late."

She follows you as you go back into the living room and say your farewells to the others. When you turn to face her she motions to the front door. Taking the hint, you let her walk you to the front door. You don't know what to do so you stand there, the threshold between the two of you.

"Can I ask you something?" She ducks her head shyly, and for the first time tonight, you don't hear the sureness in her voice. You nod and she continues, "Had you known I would be here, would you have still come over?"

"Yes." It doesn't take more than a second for you to answer her. You know in heart that you wouldn't have given up a chance to see her again. To know that she's okay.

"But what if- what if what you found wasn't what you wanted?"

"What I wanted was for you to live your life and be happy." You shove your hands in your pocket and take a deep breath, "Even if that meant something different than what I wished for."

"What'd you wish for?"

"Britt…"

"Come on, what'd you wish for?"

You sigh, holding her eyes."When I left you for the city, they only thing I wished for was for fate to somehow give us a second chance." It's more than you thought you'd admit but you continue, "But now that you're here, standing right in front of me, it's so much more complicated than I thought it would be. And it's too much. It's all too much."

Brittany seems to think it over and you feel your heartbeat pick up. You need to learn to control your outbursts around her again. You don't want to go and screw up this whole _friend_ thing a second time. But she smiles, steps forward a little and holds out her hand, "I really am glad you came, Santana. Hopefully I'll see at church sometime soon."

It's an invitation to go at your own pace and you're grateful. Cautiously, you pull out your hand and reach to shake hers softly. Her hands are so soft that it makes you want to pull her closer. It makes you want to feel her skin beneath your fingers and goddammit, it's just too much again. You pull away.

"Goodnight Brittany."

"Goodnight Santana."

"Goodnight guys!" You call out to the three people behind her, peaking their heads out from around the corner, and you both to laugh as they scramble back to the living room.

When Brittany looks back at you, something in her expression changes, "As mad as I was at them earlier, I really am glad they brought you back to me."

 _Back to me._ Her choice of words aren't lost on you and it feels like a slap to the face. Or a punch to the heart.

"Their plan could've gone horribly wrong."

"But it didn't." She beams, "And now look, after all this time, we're friends again."

"I'm a different person, you know." You try to tell her because she's right, a lot of time has passed. You're not the same Santana she once called her best friend. You're not the same Santana she fell in love with.

Her smile widens though, holding her ground, "So am I."


End file.
